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LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 

EDITED   BY 

GEORGE   RICE   CARPENTER,  A.B. 

PROFESSOR  OP  RHETORIC   AND   ENGLISH   COMPOSITION    IN    COLUMBIA   COLLEGE 


THE  SIR    ROGER    DE   COYERLEY    PAPERS 


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— v^tic 


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LOIfGMANS'  Els'GLISH  CLASSICS 

Edited  by  George  Rice  Carpenter,  A.B., 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Englis-h  Composition  in  Columbia  University. 


With  fuU  Notes,  Introdxictiong,  Bibliographies,  and  other  Explanatory  and 
niugtrative  Matter.    Crown  8»o. 


Bubee'b  Speech  ok  Cosciliatioh  with 
Amekica.  Edltert  by  AlbL-rt  S.  Cook, 
Ph.D.,  L.H.D.,  Professor  of  the  English 
Lanmiage  and  Literature  in  Yale  uni- 
versity. 

Cabltlk'b  Ebbat  on  Buexb.  Edited  by 
WUson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Assosiate  Princi- 
pal of theJCew.-irk  Academy, Kewark,  N.J. 

Colekidge'b  The  Rive  or  the  Ascient 
Marineb.  Ed;ted  by  Uerberi  Ba'es,  A.B., 
l.ate  of  the  University  of  Nebraska.  In- 
structor in  English  in  ihe  Manual  Tra'.n- 
ing  Iligh  School,  Brooklyn. 

CoopBs's  The  Last  or  the  Mohican?.  Ed- 
ited bv  Charles  F.  Ricliaruson,  Ph.D., 
Winkle'y  Professor  of  the  Enrlish  Lan- 
guage and  Literature  ID  I>artaioutb  College. 

Db  Qitincet'b  Flight  of  a  Tabtak  Tbibe 
(Revolt  of  thk  Taetab^).  Editd  by 
Charles  Sears  Baldwin.  Ph.D..  Assistant 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  In  Yale  University. 

Dktoe's  Histobt  of  the  Plagite  in  Lon- 
don. Edited  by  ProfessorG.  R.  Carpenter, 
of  Columbia  University. 

Dbtdes'b  Palamon  and  Abcite.  Edited 
by  William  T.  Bie.vster.  A.M.,  Tutor  In 
Rhetoric  in  Columbia  University. 

Geobge  Eliot's  Silab  Mabneb.  Edited  by 
Robert  Hcrrick,  A.B  ,  Assstant  Professor 
of  Rhetoric  in  the  University  of  Chicago. 

Goldsmfth's  The  V'icab  of  Wakefif'.d. 
Edited  by  Mary  A.  .Jordan,  A.M..  Pro- 
fessor of  Rhetoric  and  Old  English  in 
Smith  College. 

Ieving's  Tales  of  a  Tbavelleb.  With  an 
Intr  pductiiin  by  Brandir  Matthews,  Pro- 
fessor of  Literature  in  Columbia  Univer- 
sitr,  :vnd  Exphnatory  Xotesby  the  general 
editor  of  the  series. 

Macatjlat'b  Ebsatb  on  Milton  and  Addi- 
son. E;lit"d,  with  Notes  anil  Introduction, 
by  .Jimes  Greenleaf  Croswell,  A.B.,  Head 
Master  of  the  Brearley  School,  New  York. 

Macal-lat'b  Essat  on  Milton.  Edited  by 
James  Greenleaf  Croswell,  A.B.,  Head 
Master  of  the  Brearley  School,  New  York. 

MACAtTLAT's  LiFE  OF  Samtjel  Johnbon.  Ed- 
ited by  the  Rev.  Hubar  Gray  Buchler,  of 
the  Hotchklss  School,  LakeviUe,  Conn. 

Milton's  L'Allegeo,  II  Penseeoso,  Coitus, 
and  Ltcidas.  Edited  by  William  P.  Trent, 
A.M.,  Professor  of  English  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  the  South. 


Milton's  Pabadibe  Lost.  Books  I.  and  II. 
Eolted  by  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Jr., 
Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Logic  In 
Union  College. 

Pope's  Hohee's  Iliad.  Books  I,  VI.,  XXII., 
AND  XXIV.  Edited  by  William  H  Max- 
well, A.M  ,  City  Superintendent  of  Schools, 
New  York,  and  Percival  Chubb,  of  the 
Ethical  Culture  Schools,  New  York. 

Scott's  "Woodstock.  Edited  by  Bliss  Perry, 
A.M.,  I'lofis-or  of  Oratory  and  .Esthetic 
Criiicism  In  Princeton  Univers.ty. 

.Scott's  Ivanhoe.  Edited  by  Bliss  Perry, 
A.M.,  Professor  of  Oratory  and  .£sthe'.ic 
Criticism  in  Princeton  University. 

Scott's  Mabvion.  Edited  by  Robert  Morss 
Lovctt.A.B..  Assistant  Professor  of  English 
lu  the  University  of  Chicago. 

Srakspebe's  JrLius  Cjssab.  Edited,  with 
Introduction  and  Notes,  bv  George  C.  D. 
Odeli,  Ph.D.,  Tutorln  Rhetoric  antlEnglish 
ComjiositioD  in  Columbia  University. 

Shakspebe's  Macbeth.  Edited  by  John 
MaUhews  Manly,  Ph.  D.,  Professor  of 
Englxflh  in  the  University  of  Chicago. 

Shakspebe's  Mebchaxt  of  Venice.  Ed- 
ited by  Francis  B.  Gummere,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Englbh  in  Haverford  College. 

Shakspebe's  As  You  Like  It.  With  an 
Intioducliou  by  Barrett  Wendell.  A.B.. 
Assi.stant  P^ofe^i^or  of  English  in  Harvard 
University,  and  Notes  by  William  Lycn 
Phelps,  Pn.D  ,  Assistant  Professor  of  Lng- 
llsh  in  Yale  University. 

Shakspebe's  A  Midsukxeb  Night's 
Dbeah.  Edited  bv  George  Pierce  Baker, 
A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  In 
Harvard  University. 

The  Sib  Rogeb  de  Coveelet  Papees,  from 
"The  Spectator."  Edited  By  D.  O. .«. 
Lowell,  A.M.,  of  the  Roxbury  Latin  School, 
Roxbury,  Mass. 

Southet'b  Life  of  Nelson.  Edited  bv  Ed- 
win L.  Miller,  A.M.,  of  the  Euglewood 
High  School,  Illinois. 

Tennyson's  The  Peincess.  Edited  by 
George  Edward  Wotdberry,  A.B.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Literature  in  Columbia  Uni- 
versity. 

Weesteb's  Fiest  Bitnkeb  Hill  Obation, 

together  with  other  Addresses  relating  to 
the  Revolution.  Edited  bv  Fred  Newton 
Scott,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Rhetoric  in  the 
University  of  Michigan, 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIF.GO 

by 

FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIIJRARY 

MR.   JOHN  C.  ROSE 

donor 


N^ 


JOSEPH  ADDISON 
(After  the  painting  by  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller) 


Congmons'  English  Clasgics 
THE 

SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET  PAPERS 

FROM 

"THE    SPECTATOR" 

EDITED 

WITH   NOTES   AND   AN   INTRODUCTION 
BY 

D.  O.  S.  LOWELL,  A.M.,  M.D. 

ENGLISH   MASTER  IN  THE  KOXBURY  LATIN  SCHOOL 


NEW  YORK 
LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  AND  CO. 

LONDON   AND   BOMBAY 

1000 


COFTRIGHT,  189<J 
BT 

LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 
All  rights  reserved 


First  Edition,  June,  1«96 

Reprinted,  June  and  Octobeb,  1897 

Mat  and  August,  1899 

June,  1900 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  \'ork 


TO 

MY   DEAR   WIFE, 

IN   GEATEFUL   ACKXOWLF.Dr.MF.NT 

OF    HEB 

SYMPATHETIC    CRITICISM 

AND 

KINDLY    AID, 

I   LOVINGLY   INSCRIBE 

THIS   EDITION. 


a 


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PREFACE 

In  this  volume  of  selections  from  the  Spectator,  the  text 
of  Tickell's  (1721)  edition  of  Addison's  works  has  been 
compared  with  Henry  Morley's  (1888)  new  edition  of  the 
Spectator,  "reproducing  the  original  text,  both  as  first  is- 
sued, and  as  corrected  by  its  authors."  In  each  instance 
the  text  has  been  given  "as  corrected;"  but  it  has  not 
been  thought  best  to  give  an  exact  reprint  of  spelling,  capi- 
tals, and  punctuation.  As  it  is  the  aim  of  secondary 
teachers  to  make  their  pupils  familiar  with  the  best  modern 
usage,  and  as  some  pupils  are  prone  to  misspell.  niis])unc- 
tuate,  and  miscapitalize  in  spite  of  both  precept  and  ex- 
ample, it  seems  wise  to  sacrifice  a  bookish  sentiment  to 
utilitarian  ends. 

As  to  Addison's  grammar,  while  his  principal  departures 
from  modern  idioms  have  been  noted,  the  sacrilege  of  par- 
aphrasing has  been  studiously  avoided.  Here  and  there 
the  papers  have  been  slightly  edited  for  obvious  reasons. 
The  Partridge  hoax  has  been  purposely  treated  at  consider- 
able length  in  the  Introduction,  not  only  because  it  is 
famous  in  literature,  has  a  direct  bearing  upon  the  incep- 
tion of  the  Tatler,  and  is  most  amusing  in  itself,  but  also 
because  it  gives  an  interesting  glimpse  of  one  of  the  most 
famous  contemporaries  of  Steele  and  Addison— Dean  Swift. 

The  chronological  table  has  been  made  a  little  fuller 
than  in  other  books  of  this  series,  in  the  thought  that  some 
may  become  interested  in  the  lives  of  the  two  principal 
characters  and  wish  to  follow  them  up  in  detail.  After  a 
brief  course  of  reading  in  some  of  the  books  suggested 
under  Bibliography  (p.  xlv.),  the  student  might  be  re- 


yiii  PREFACE 

quired  to  write  a  sketch  of  Addison  or  Steele,  using  as  a 
"brief"  the  chronological  table. 

My  thanks  are  especially  due  to  Prof.  G.  E.  Carpenter, 
the  general  editor  of  the  series,  for  his  scholarly  criticisms 
of  this  edition  while  it  has  been  passing  through  the  press, 
and  for  the  courtesy  with  which  he  has  pointed  out  infe- 
licities and  inaccuracies  that  would  otherwise  have  escaped 
my  notice. 

D.  0.  S.  L. 

RoxBURY  Latin  School,  May,  1896. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

I.  The  Tatler  and  the  Spectator 
II.  The  Authors  of  the  de  Coverley  Papers 

1.  Joseph  Addison 

2.  Ricliard  Steele 

3.  Eustace  Budgell 

III.  Suggestions  for  Teachers  and  Stu 

IV.  Chronological  Table 


PAGE. 

xiii 


XXIV 

xxxi 
xl 

xlii 

xlix 


THE   DE   COYERLEY   PAPERS. 


^L^^^ 


SPECTATOR. 

The  Spectator Addison ....  Xo.      1 . . 

I.  The  Club....". Steele No.      2.., 

III.  Sib  Roger's  Philosophy Steele No.      6. . 


f^l. 


~1Y.  Sir  Roger  and  the  Club, 
make  Concessions  to  the 
Spectator Addison .  . .  No.    34 . 

TV.  Sir  Roqer's  Client Addison   . .  .No.    37. 

Coverley  Hall  A  ddison No.  106 . 

p  TheCoverley  Household.  .  .Steele No.  107. 

HB  Will  Wimble Addison No.  108. 


15 

20 
25 
31 
36 
40 


CONTENTS 


TITLE.  AUTHOR. 

HE  Ck)VERLEY  AxcESTRY Steele  . . 


The  Coverley  Ghost Addison. 

A  Country  Sunday Addison. 

Sir  Roger  in  Love Steele  . . . 

Contentment  and  Poverty  .  .Steele   . . 


NO.  OP 
SPECTATOR.      P-*f=K. 

44 
49 
54 
58 
64 


•  No.  109., 
.No.  110. 
.No.  112., 
.No.  113. 
,  .No,  114. 


Sir     Roger's     Labors     and 

Trophies Addison. 

Sir  Roger  goes  a-Hunting.  ...Budgell . 

A  Village  Witch Addison. 

A  Perverse  Woman Steele  . . . 


Good  Breeding  in  the  Coun- 
try   A  ddison . 


XIX.  Sir  Roger's  Poultry. 


, . .  .Addison. 


.No.  115... 
.No.  116... 
.No.  117... 
.No.  118... 

.No.  119... 

.  i»«os.  4 

M21 


Sir  Roger  on  the  Bench Addison. 

The  Education  of  an  YIvak.  .Addison. 

Sir  Roger  and  Party  Spirit.  .Addison. 

Party  Prejudice    Addison. 

Gypsies Addison. 

A  Summons  to  London Addison. 

XVI.  A  Journey  to  IjONDON Steele  . . . 

XXVII.  Sir  Roger  in  an  Argvwest! .Steele  .. . 

K^Y^y  Sir  Roger  in  London  / Addison. 

vX^JO  Sir    Roger    in    Westminster 
^**^  Abbey Addison . 

Sir  Roger  at  the  Play Addison. 


69 
74 

80 
84 

89 
93 


99 

104 
110 


.No.  122.. 
.No.  123.. 
.No.  125.. 
.No.  126...  115 
.No.  130. . .  120 
.No.  131. 
.No.  132. 
.No.  174. 
.No.  269. 


124 

128 
133 
138 


^    -i^)i 


.No.  829...   143 
.No.  335...  148 


CONTENTS  xi 

NO.  OP 
CHAPTER.  TITLE.  AUTHOR.  PAGE. 

SPECTATOR. 

XXXI.  Sir  Roger's  Advice  from  Will 

Honeycomb Budgell No.  359. . .  153 

XXXII.  Sir  Roger  at  Vauxuall  . . .  .Addison No.  383. . .  157 

XXXIII.  Sir  Roger's  Death Addison. . .  .No.  517. . .  161 

XXXIV.  Sir  Roger's  Character, 
Estate,  and  Successor.  .Stede No.  544. . .  164 

Note 167 

Appendix 

The  Mottoes  Translated 169 


INTRODUCTION. 

I.  The  Tatler  axd  the   Spectator. 

The  Sir  Koger  de  Coverley  Papers  are  selections  from  five 
hundred  and  fifty-five  daily  issues  ^  of  a  sheet  called  the 
Spectator.  This  was  the  natural  successor  of  another  peri- 
odical of  similar  character — the  Tatler,  founded  in  London, 
in  1709,  by  Eichard  Steele,  and  published  three  times  a 
week  over  the  signature  of  Isaac  Bickerstaff.  The 
circumstances  which  led  to  the  selection  of  the  pen  name 
are  of  curious  interest. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  jirophetic 
almanacs  were  extremely  popular  in  England,  under  the 
title  of  "Prognostications."  Tlie  Stationers'  Company 
employed  for  several  years  as  its  principal  "  prophet "  a 
fellow  who  was  a  shoemaker  by  trade,  named  John  Par- 
tridge. He  appropriated  to  himself  the  title  of  ''  Student 
in  Astrology,"  and  like  other  astrological  impostors  pre- 
tended to  tell  the  course  of  events  by  consulting  the  stars. 

-^After  Partridge's  "  Prognostications  for  1708  "  apjieared, 
thk^  mad  wag  Jonathan  Swift — tlie  author  of  "  Gulliver's 
Travels,"  then  an  Irish  vicar  of  rising  fame  visiting  in 
Loudon — published  a  satire  entitled  "  Predictions  for  the 
year  1708,  wherein  the  month,  and  tlio  day  of  the  month, 
are  set  down,  the  persons  named,  and  the  great  actions 
and  events  of  next  year  particularly  related,  as  they  will 
come  to  pass.  AYritten  to  prevent  the  people  of  England 
from   being  further  imposed   on   by  the  vulgar   almanac 

'  There  were  635  Spectators,  but  there  was  a  break  after  555  had 
been  issued,  and  the  last  80  were  not  daily  issues,  as  will  be  seen 
farther  on. 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

makers.  By  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esq."  He  begins  very 
Bolemnly  by  deploring  tlie  fact  that  faith  in  astrology  seems 
to  be  on  the  wane,  and  attributes  it  to  the  fact  that  so 
many  ''  illiterate  traders  between  us  and  the  stars  impart  a 
yearly  stock  of  nonsense,  lies,  folly,  and  impertinence, 
which  they  offer  to  the  world  as  genuine  from  the  planets, 
though  they  descend  from  no  greater  a  heiglit  than  their 
own  brains."  After  showing  up  the  frailties  of  pseudo- 
astrologers,  *'  Bickerstaff  "  vaunts  his  own  ability  as  a  star- 
gazer  and  star-reader,  with  so  much  seeming  seriousness 
and  candor  as  to  take  in  many  good  people  and  some  bad 
ones;  in  fact,  the  Inquisition  at  Portugal  actually  burnt 
his  tract  because  of  its  heresy,  and  thundered  its  anathemas 
against  the  author  and  his  readers. 

Finally  Bickerstaff  begins  his  concrete  prophecies: 

"  My  first  prediction  is  but  a  trifle,  ...  it  relates 
to  Partridge  the  almanac-maker.  I  have  consulted  the 
star  of  his  nativity  by  my  own  rules,  and  find  he  will  in- 
fallibly die  upon  the  29th  of  March  next,  about  eleven  at 
night,  of  a  raging  fever:  therefore  I  advise  him  to  con- 
sider of  it,  and  settle  his  affairs  in  time." 

On  the  day  following  the  fateful  twenty-ninth  of  March 
appeared  another  pamphlet,  entitled  "  The  accomplisli- 
ment  of  the  first  of  Mr.  Bickerstaff's  predictions,  being 
an  account  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Partridge,  the  almanac- 
maker,  upon  the  29th  instant,  in  a  letter  to  a  person  of 
honor."  In  this  it  was  stated  that  Partridge  died  at 
"about  five  minutes  after  seven;  by  which  it  is  clear  that 
Mr.  Bickerstaff  was  mistaken  almost  four  hours  in  his  cal- 
culation." 

Partridge,  however,  was  not  only  very  much  alive,  but 
incomparably  angry;  and  the  fact  that  all  the  wits  of  the 
time  aided  in  spreading  the  report  of  his  demise,  served  to 
increase  his  wrath.  He  is  said  to  have  knocked  down  before 
liis  very  door  a  vender  of  Swift's  obituary  pamphlet  who 
was  crying  it  about  the  streets.     Finally  there  appeared  a 


IXTRODVCTIOy  XV 

pamphlet  purporting  to  come  from  Partridge  (but  really 
written  by  Congreve  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Yalden)  and  com- 
plaining most  piteously  of  the  joke  which  had  been  prac- 
tised upon  him.  He  stigmatizes  Isaac  Bickerstatf  as  an 
"  unscientific  Frenchman  and  Papist  ^vho  is  striving  to  bury 
alive  a  respectable  Protestant  astrologer."  He  then  goes 
on  to  state  that  when  the  niglit  of  his  pretended  decease 
"  of  a  raging  fever  "  had  come,  though  he  was  in  his  usual 
health,  his  wife,  who  had  been  wrought  upon  somewhat  by 
the  false  propliet,  prevailed  upon  him  to  take  a  sweat  and 
retire  early.  Suddenly  a  neighbouring  bell  began  to  toll, 
and  as  the  servant  went  to  a  window  to  inquire  the  cause 
she  was  told  that  Doctor  Partridge  had  suddenly  died.  The 
maid  hotly  gave  her  informer  the  lie,  but  he  insisted  that — 
if  we  may  paraphrase  Hood's  conceit — some  one  had  told  the 
sexton  so  and  the  sexton  had  tolled  the  bell.  Every  passer- 
by also  stoutly  affirmed  that  I'artridge  was  dead. 

Presently  a  grave  person  called  and  asked  if  that  were 
Doctor  Partridge's  residence.  He  was  supposed  to  be  a 
jjatient  and  shown  into  the  dining-room.  Partridge  went 
down  and  found  him  measuring  the  room  to  be  hung  with 
mourning  for  the  doctor's  death.  Xothing  could  con- 
vince the  undertaker's  deputy  that  the  supposed  cori)se 
stood  before  him;  and  when  the  latter,  summoning  up  his 
spirit,  ordered  the  ghostly  decorator  out  of  doors,  the  dep- 
uty said  that  he  perceived  the  doctor's  death  had  disordered 
the  gentleman's  mind.  Doubtless  he  was  a  near  relative — 
perhaps  a  brother.  The  draper  would  go  away,  and  return 
next  morning. 

Partridge  again  repaired  to  his  bed,  but  again,  like 
an  ill-laid  ghost,  was  conjured  up  by  the  sexton.  He  had 
come  to  see  about  the  grave,  the  funeral  sermon,  etc. 
Partridge  insisted  that  all  this  was  a  work  of  supererogation ; 
but  the  fellow  stoutly  declared  that  the  whole  town  knew 
the  almanac-maker  was  dead,  and  the  joiner  was  hurrying  up 
his  coffin  for  fear  he  would  become  impatient  for  it.     He  re- 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

proaclied  Partridge  for  trying  to  keep  his  deatli  so  secret, 
and  hinted  that  he  might  be  mean  enough  to  try  to  avoid 
paying  his  funeral  expenses. 

"In  short,"  Congreve  and  Yalden  make  Partridge  say, 
"  what  with  undertakers,  embalmers,  joiners,  sextons,  and 
elegy-hawkers  upon  a  '  late  practitioner  in  physic  and  astrol- 
ogy,' 1  got  not  one  wink  of  sleep  that  night,  nor  scarce  a 
moment's  rest  ever  since.  I  could  not  stir  out  of  doors  for 
the  space  of  three  months  after  this  but  presently  one  comes 
up  to  me  in  the  street: 

"  'Mr.  Partridge,  that  coffin  you  Avas  last  buried  in,  I 
have  not  been  yet  paid  for, '     .     .     . 

"  My  poor  wife  is  run  almost  distracted  with  being  called 
'widow  Partridge,'  when  she  knows  it  is  false;  and  once 
a  term  she  is  cited  into  the  court  to  take  out  letters  of 
administration."  ^ 

"The  most  memorable  consequence  of  Swift's  frolic," 
writes  Sir  Walter  Scott,  "was  the  establishment  of  the 
Taller,  the  first  of  that  long  series  of  periodical  works 
which,  from  the  days  of  Addison  to  those  of  Mackenzie, 
have  enriched  our  literature  with  so  many  effusions  of 
genius,  humor,  wit,  and  learning." 

Early  in  1709  Steele  resolved  upon  the  issue  of  a  tri- 
weekly''' literary  periodical  which  should  convey  to  its 
readers  in  a  chatty,  informal  style  a  variety  of  information. 
As  the  name  of  "Isaac  Bickerstaff  "  was  then  in  every- 
body's mouth,  it  seemed  a  peculiarly  favorable  opj)ortunity 
to  publish  the  new  paper  over  his  name.  Acting  perhaps 
upon  the  advice,  certainly  with  the  consent,  of  Swift,  Steele 
availed  himself  of  all  the  advantages  accruing  from  the 
use  of  the  well-known  name,  and  began  the  Tatler. 

For  a  hundred  years  previous  there  had  been  occasional 

'  The  whole  of  this  diverting  paper  may  be  found  in  Swift's 
Worlis,  and  in  Nathan  Drake's  Essays  on  the  Tatler,  Spectator,  and 
Guardian,  vol.  i.,  p.  Mff. 

"  Look  up  this  word  in  the  dictionary  and  see  what  it  does  mean, 
and  also  what  it,  properly,  should  mean.  It  is  an  interesting  example 
of  the  fact  that  custom  makes  law. 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

short-lived  periodicals,  most  of  -wliich  are  now  forgotten. 
Finally,  in  1704,  there  appeared  the  Bevipiv,  edited,  and 
mainly  written,  by  Daniel  Defoe,  the  author  of  "  Eobin- 
Bon  Crusoe,"  one  of  the  four  great  prose  Avriters  of  his 
time.  This  continued  until  IT  13.  At  first  it  was  weekly, 
then  semi-weekly,  and  then,  as  tlie  demand  increased,  tri- 
weekly. It  contained  news,  botli  foreign  and  domestic, 
but  had  a  corner  devoted  to  matters  in  general,  such  as 
love  and  war,  ethics,  theology,  and  literature.  This  was 
superior  to  anything  which  had  ^n-eceded  it  and  undoubt- 
edly suggested  to  Steele  his  idea  of  the  Taller} 

But  Steele  did  not  intend  to  devote  so  large  a  space  to 
politics.  He  aimed  rather  to  treat  of  literary  topics,  soci- 
ety matters,  and  the  follies  of  the  times.  In  his  original 
dedication  of  the  first  volume  he  says:  ''  The  general  pur- 
pose of  this  paper  is  to  expose  the  false  arts  of  life,  to  pull 
off  the  disguises  of  cunning,  vanity,  and  afl'ectation,  and 
to  recommend  a  general  simjilicity  in  our  dress,  our  dis- 
course, and  our  behavior." 

The  great  success  of  Steele's  novel  plan  is  well  summed 
up  by  Dr.  N'athan  Drake:  "The  invention  of  a  paper 
calculated  for  general  instruction  and  entertainment, 
abounding  in  elegant  literature,  appearing  periodically, 
and  forming  a  whole  under  an  assumed  name  and  charac- 
ter, is  without  doubt  to  bo  ascribed  to  this  country  [Eng- 
land], and  confers  on  it  no  small  degree  of  honor.  The 
Tatler  presented  to  Europe  in  1709  the  first  legitimate 
model.  "2 

The  price  of  the  Tatler  was  one  penny,  equal — if  we 
consider  the  greater  value  of  money  in  those  days — to 
about  ten  cents  at  the  present  time.     The  first  few  num- 

*  Others  think  Steele  was  inspired  by  the  Athenian  Oazette  (1690. 
— See  chronological  table).  "  It  seems  to  have  been  read  by  as  many 
distinguished  men  of  the  period  as  Notes  and  Queries  in  our  own 
time,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  quaint  humors  it  originated 
gave  the  first  hint  to  the  inventors  of  the  Tatler  and  the  Spectator.'''' 
Courthope's  Addison,  chap,  v.,  p.  84. 

"  Essays.     Vol.  i.,   p.  22. 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

bers,  however,  were  distributed  gratis  by  way  of  advertise- 
ment. The  first  issue  (April  12,  1709)  opens  with  a  kind 
of  prospectus,  in  which  the  editor  shows  the  need  of  a  pe- 
riodical differing  from  the  other  journals  of  the  day.  He 
makes  the  somewhat  suggestive  statement  that  the  name 
has  been  invented  in  honor  of  the  ''fair  sex,"  and  then 
proceeds  to  show  the  variety  of  entertainment  which  he 
has  in  store  for  all  his  patrons: 

"All  accounts  of  gallantry,  pleasure,  and  entertain- 
ment, shall  be  under  the  article  of  "White's  chocolate- 
house;  poetry,  under  that  of  Will's  coffee-house;  learning, 
under  the  title  of  Grecian;  foreign  and  domestic  news  you 
will  have  from  St.  James's  coffee-house;  and  what  else  I 
have  to  offer  on  any  other  subject  shall  be  dated  from  my 
own  apartment." 

Mr.  '*  Bickerstaff  "  finally  reminds  his  readers  that  he 
has  "  besides  the  force  of  his  own  parts,  the  power  of  di- 
vination, and  that  he  can  [as  in  the  case  of  Partridge]  by 
casting  a  figure  tell  all  that  will  happen  before  it  comes 
to  pass;  but  that  he  shall  use  this  faculty  sparingly  for 
fear  of  divulging  matters  Avliich  may  offend  his  superiors." 
This  same  introduction  was  also  printed  in  the  second  and 
third  numbers. 

'HTe  begins  his  paper  proper  with  an  article  from  White's 
chocolate-house,  describing  the  desperate  condition  of  a 
young  man  in  love,  with  a  promise  "  from  time  to  time  to 
be  very  exact  in  the  progress  the  unhappy  gentleman 
makes;  "  this  is  followed  by  an  article  from  Will's  coffee- 
house dealing  ostensibly  with  "poetry,"  but  mainly  occu- 
pied with  the  description  of  a  benefit  to  that  "  Roscius  of 
the  stage,"  Thomas  Betterton,  with  a  side  hit  at  the 
opera  fad  and  the  gaming  propensities  of  theatre-goers. 
Then  comes  the  foreign  news,  dated,  of  course,  from  St. 
James's  coffee-house,  and  giving  the  latest  intelligence 
from  The  Hague  and  the  surrounding  region.  As  Steele 
was  the  official  Gazetteer  at  this  time,  he  had  peculiar 


IXTRODVCTIOX 


XIX 


facilities  for  thiis  furnisliiug  late  and  reliable  information. 
The  paper  concludes  with  an  article  dated  "  From  my  own 
Apartment,"  which  reads  as  follows: 

*'  I  am  sorry  I  am  obliged  to  trouble  the  public  with 
BO  much  discourse  upon  a  matter  which  I  at  first  men- 
tioned as  a  trifle,  viz.,  the  death  of  Mr.  Partridge,  under 
whose  name  there  is  an  almanac  come  out  for  the  year 
1709,  in  one  page  of  which  it  is  asserted  by  the  said  John 
Partridge  that  he  is  still  living,  and  not  only  so,  but  that 
he  was  also  living  some  time  before,  and  even  at  the  in- 
stant when  I  writ  of  his  death.  I  have,  in  another  place, 
and  in  a  paper  by  itself,  sufficiently  convinced  this  man 
that  he  is  dead,  and,  if  he  has  any  shame,  I  do  not  doubt 
but  that  by  this  time  he  owns  it  to  all  his  acquaintance; 
for  tliough  the  legs  and  arms  and  whole  body  of  that  man 
may  still  appear  and  perform  their  animal  functions,  yet 
since,  as  I  have  elsewhere  observed,  his  art  is  gone,  the 
man  is  gone.  I  am,  as  I  said,  concerned  that  this  matter 
should  make  so  much  noise;  but  since  I  am  engaged,  I  take 
myself  obliged  to  go  on  in  my  lucubrations,  and  by  the  help 
of  these  arts,  of  which  I  am  master,  as  well  as  my  skill  in 
astrological  speculations,  I  shall,  as  I  see  occasion,  proceed 
to  confute  other  dead  men  who  pretend  to  be  in  being, 
although  they  are  actually  deceased.  I  therefore  give  all 
men  fair  warning  to  mend  their  manners;  for  I  shall, 
from  time  to  time,  print  bills  of  mortality;  and  I  beg  the 
pardon  of  all  such  who  shall  be  named  therein,  if  they 
who  are  good  for  nothing  shall  find  themselves  in  the  num- 
ber of  the  deceased." 

After  the  subject-matter,  there  appears  the  advei-tise- 
ment  of  a  pamphlet  (written  by  the  original  "  Bicker- 
staff" — Swift),  entitled,  "A  Vindication  of  Isaac  Bicker- 
staff,  Esq.,  against  what  is  objected  to  him  by  Mr.  Par- 
tridge, in  his  almanac  for  the  year  1709.  By  the  said 
Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esq."  This  was  the  last  that  S^vift 
wrote  upon  the  now  well-worn  theme;  but  subsequent  men- 
tion of  Partridge  is  made  in  several  Tatlers  (see  Nos.  56, 
69,  96,  99,  113,  118,  and  216). 


XX  INTRODUCTION 

The  motto  for  the  first  forty  numbers  was  a  quotation 
from  Juvenal: 

Quicquid  agunt  linniines    .     .     . 
.     .     .     nostri  est  farrago  libelli, 

which  has  been  translated, 

"Whate'er  men  do,  or  say,  or  think,  or  dream, 
Our  motley  paper  seizes  for  its  tlieme  "  ; 


and  also. 


"  Whatever  good  is  done,  whatever  ill. 
By  human  kind,  shall  this  collection  fill." 


After  the  fortieth  Tatler,  Steele  began  to  use  other  mot- 
toes occasionally,  until  at  about  the  eightieth  number  he 
dropped  the  original  motto  altogether,  and  either  used  none 
at  all,  or  selected  some  one  appropriate  to  his  subject. 

When  the  Tatler  first  appeared,  Addison,  the  old  school- 
mate and  bosom  friend  of  Steele,  was  in  Ireland  and  knew 
nothing  as  to  the  authorship  of  the  projected  paper.  He 
read  the  first  five  numbers  with  interest,  and  in  the  sixth 
was  startled  to  find  a  literary  comment  upon  a  passage  in 
Virgil  which  he  himself  had  made  to  Steele  a  short  time  pre- 
vious. This  passage  revealed  the  identity  of  the  nev/  ''  Bick- 
erstafif,"  and  Addison  at  once  wrote  to  Steele  congratulating 
him  upon  his  enterprise  and  offering  to  help  him.  Steele 
gladly  closed  with  this  offer,  and  in  No.  18  we  find  Addi- 
son's first  contribution.  After  that  his  articles  appeared 
at  somewhat  rare  intervals  until  No.  81,  and  then  more 
frequently  as  long  as  the  Tatter  continued.  Of  the  271 
numbers  of  the  Tatter,  it  has  been  tolerabl}'  well  settled 
that  Steele  wrote  1G4;  Steele  and  Addison  jointly,  36; 
Steele  and  others  (unknown),  24;  Addison,  42;  Addison 
and  Swift  jointly,  1;  Swift,  1;  Hughes,  2;  and  Fuller,  1. 

On  Januarv  2,  1711,  the  Tatter  came  to  a  sudden  close. 


I^'TlioD  Ui  'TJoy  xxi 

The  reason  for  this  is  in  dispi'.te.  Steele  said — in  the  final 
number — that  his  '•lucubrations  "  had  lost  their  force  be- 
cause his  identity  had  become  established;  he  admitted  that 
he  could  preach  better  than  he  could  practice  and  there- 
fore had  preferred  to  preach  through  a  mask.  As  the 
mask  had  been  penetrated  he  signed  himself  the  indulgent 
reader's  most  obliged,  most  obedient,  humble  servant,  and 
laid  down  his  pen. 

Swift  wrote  to  "Stella"  a  slightly  different  view: 
"  Steele's  last  Tatler  came  out  to-day.  You  Avill  see  it  be- 
fore this  comes  to  you,  and  how  he  takes  leave  of  the 
world.  He  never  told  so  much  as  Mr.  Addison  of  it,  who 
was  surprised  as  much  as  I;  but  to  say  the  truth,  it  was 
time,  for  he  grew  cruel  dull  and  dry.  To  my  knowledge 
he  had  several  good  hints  to  go  uj^on:  but  he  was  so  lazy 
and  weak  of  the  work  that  he  would  not  improve  them." 
Other  reasons  assigned  were  political  ones.  Steele  had 
written  several  articles  against  the  government,  had  lost 
his  office  as  Gazetteer  and  could  not  furnish  foreign  news, 
etc.  These  arguments  are  still  mooted,  and  we  will  not 
dwell  upon  them.  Whatever  was  the  reason  for  the  dis- 
continuance of  the  paper,  it  Avas  )iot  from  lack  of  material; 
for  in  about  two  months  there  sprang  up,  like  a  phaniix, 
from  the  ashes  of  the  Tathr,  a  fresher,  livelier,  daily  sheet 
called  the  Sjiectator. 

As  the  first  two  numbers  of  the  Spectator  are  found  in 
the  body  of  this  book,  a  reading  of  these  will  be  far  better 
than  any  comment  upon  them.  The  new  sheet  became 
popular  at  once  and  had  a  wide  sale.  Beginning  on 
March  1,  1711,  it  appeared  every  week-day  until  Decem- 
ber 6,  1712,  when  it  completed  its  5o5th  issue.  All  but  45 
of  these  numbers  were  written  by  Addison  and  Steele. 
Addison  furnished  274,  and  Steele  236.  Budgell,  Tickell, 
Pope,  Hughes,  and  one  or  two  others,  wrote  the  remaining 
45.  The  Siiectator  was  revived  by  Addison  on  January  18, 
1714,  and  continued  three  times  each  week  until  December 


xxii  IXTRODVCTIOX 

20.  But  in  these  numbers  Steele  had  little  if  any  part,  and 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  and  the  Club  were  likewise  absent. 

The  Tatler  and  the  Spectator  will  always  remain  among 
the  gems  of  English  literature.  Xo  amount  of  reading 
about  them  will  give  one  an  adequate  idea  of  their  exqui- 
site grace  and  |)erennial  interest.  If  we  adopt  the  view  of 
Hazlitt,  we  shall  consider  their  authors  as  belonging  to  the 
school  of  Montaigne — writers  who  "  do  not  treat  of  minerals 
and  fossils,  of  the  virtues  of  plants  or  the  influence  of  plan- 
ets," but  "make  us  familiar  with  the  world  of  men  and 
women,  record  their  actions,  assign  their  motives,  exhibit 
their  whims,  and  play  the  game  of  human  life  before  us."  ^ 
Of  course  it  is  life  two  centuries  ago — we  must  never  forget 
that  fact;  and  whether  we  believe  that  the  good  times  are 
all  old  times,  or  whether  we  have  a  brighter  faith  in  com- 
ing years,  we  all  are  ready  to  admit  that  the  days  of  Queen 
Anne  were  different  from  our  own,  and  that,  to  appreciate 
the  literature  of  that  era,  we  must  adjust  our  thought  to 
those  different  conditions. 

Both  Addison  and  Steele  could  say  with  Terence, 

'*Homo  sam;  humani  nihil  a  me  alienum  puto.'' 

Both  were  inspired  with  a  sincere  wish  to  make  the  world 
better.  They  attempted  this  by  attacking  evil  on  its  own 
ground.  To  be  witty,  when  Addison  and  Steele  began  to 
write,  was  often  synonymous  with  being  indecent.  Men  of 
genius  were  not  bold  enough  to  defy  the  prevalent  taste, 
and  weakly  pandered  to  it  and  became  penitent,  like  Dry- 
den;  or  else  attempted  to  beat  down  the  bulwarks  of  sin, 
like  Jeremy  Collier,  and  became  unpopular.  Addison  and 
Steele  took  a  different  course.  They  dealt  good-humored 
but  telling  blows  at  all  the  fads  and  follies  of  the  times; 
they  shot,  between  the  joints  of  many  a  respectable  har- 
ness, arrows  of  sarcasm  pointed  with  wit  and  winged  with 
mirth;  they  smilingly  dissected  the  empty  brain  of  the 

'  Hazlitt,  On  the  Periodical  Essayists. 


lyTRODlTTinx  xxiii 

beau  and  the  frivolous  lieart  of  tlie  coquette;  they  lield  up 
the  vicious  and  the  vain  to  the  scorn  of  tiie  thoughtful; 
and  they  ended  by  making  morality  respectable  and  vice 
ridiculous.  One  writer  says  that  tlie  Spectator  "civilized 
England  more,  perhaps,  than  any  one  book."^  Another 
declares  that  '"It  is  not  so  very  much  of  a  hyperbole  to  call 
the  English  eighteenth  century  the  century  of  the  Spec- 
tator;  and  it  maybe  doubted  whetlier  any  one  man  or  any 
group  of  men  has  ever,  througli  literature,  exercised  such 
an  extensive  and  durable  influence  over  life  as  Addison  and 
Steele  did  by  means  of  those  little  sheets  issued  originally 
day  by  day,  to  be  served  up  with  the  teapot  and  the  choco- 
late cups."'^  • 

Taine  did  not  admire  Addison's  literary  abilities.  French 
wit  is  BO  unlike  English  humor  that  French  critics  cannot 
appreciate  English  humorists.  Taine  calls  Addison  *'  char- 
acteristically mediocre  "  and  ''  useful  because  he  is  narrow. " 
But  he  admits  that  he  wrouglit  a  great  work  through  his 
essays  (for  he  almost  ignores  Steele  and  seems  to  consider 
Addison  the  soul  of  the  Spectator).  lie  says:  "It  is  no 
small  thing  to  make  morality  fashionable.  Addison  diil  it. 
and  it  remained  in  fashion.  Formerly  lionest  men  were 
not  polished,  and  polished  men  were  not  iu)nest ;  piety  was 
fanatical,  and  urbanity  depraved;  in  manners,  as  in  let- 
ters, one  could  meet  only  Puritans  or  libertines.  For  the 
first  time  Addison  recouciled  virtue  with  elegance,  taught 
duty  in  an  accomplished  style,  and  made  pleasure  subser- 
vient to  reason."^ 

Most  readers  consider  the  Spectator  a  greater  work  than 
the  Tatler,  but  there  is  at  least  one  notable  exception. 
Hazlitt  says:  "I  have  always  preferred  the  Tatler  to  the 
Spectator.  AVhether  it  is  owing  to  my  having  been  earlier 
or  better  acquainted  with   the   one   than   the  other,  my 

'  T.  S.  Perry,  English  Literature  in  tlie  Eighteenth  Century,  p.  179, 
'  Traill,  Social  England,  iv.,  p.  579. 

'  Taine,  English  Literature.  Translated  by  Van  Laun,  vol.  ii., 
book  iii.,  chap,  iv.,  section  v. 


xxir  INTRODUCTION 

pleasure  in  reading  these  two  admirable  works  is  not  at  all 
in  proportion  to  their  comparative  reputation."  * 

The  central  figure  in  the  Spectator  is  undeniably  that  of 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley.  In  fact,  the  papers  which  sketch 
his  life  and  describe  his  amiable  character  and  inurbane 
urbanity  may  almost  be  considered  the  first  great  English 
novel.  That  he  is  drawn  from  life,  no  one  can  for  a  mo- 
ment doubt;  that  he  is  a  portrait,  it  seems  incredible  that 
any  one  should  believe.  But  he  becomes  real  to  us  as  we 
proceed,  and  we  see  his  characteristics  in  a  score  of  living 
men  to-day. 

'V 

II.  The  Authors  of  the  de  Coverley  Papers. 
Joseph  Addison". 

On  May-day,  1672,  two  years  before  Milton  died,  in  the 
little  town  of  Milston,  near  Amesbury,  England,  there  was 
born  to  the  rector,  Lancelot  Addison,  a  son.  It  seemed  im- 
probable that  the  babe  would  live;  in  fact,  there  is  a  story 
that  at  first  he  was  laid  out  as  dead.  In  consequence  of 
his  feeble  vitality  he  was  baptised  on  the  day  of  his  birth; 
he  was  christened  Joseph. 

Little  is  known  of  Joseph's  boyhood.  There  are  tradi- 
tions of  childish  escapades  which  would  have  passed  un- 
noticed, even  if  true,  in  the  case  of  any  common  man. 
Finally  he  went  to  the  Charterhouse  and  there  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Richard  Steele,  who  was  six  weeks  his 
senior.  The  two  became  fast  frieiids,  and,  in  aft^r  years, 
Steele  wrote  a  pleasing  description  {TatJer  Xo.  235)  of  a 
visit — evidently  made  during  their  school-days — to  Addi- 
son's home.  In  1G87  Addison  preceded  Steele  to  Oxford, 
where  he  entered  Queen's  College.  Through  his  superior 
scholarship  he  soon  became  a  demy  ^  of  Magdalen  College. 

'  On  the  Periodical  Essayists. 

'  Pronounced  de-mi'.  A  half-fellow  ;  one  who  partakes  of  the 
foundei-'s  benefaction  and  is  in  the  line  of  succession  to  become  a 
fellow. 


IXTRODUCTIOX  xxv 

III  1G93  he  became  ]\Iaster  of  Arts,  and  in  1G98  a  Fellow. 
He  added  to  his  means  by  taking  pupils^,  and  gained  a 
wide  reputation  for  classical  scholarship.  His  Latin  po- 
etry attracted  especial  attention,  and  a  poem  written  on 
the  Peace  of  Eyswick  was  called  by  an  able  critic  the  finest 
of  its  kind  since  Virgil's  "^Eneid."  His  first  English 
publication  (1693)  was  an  address  to  Dryden,  praising  that 
famous  poet's  translations  from  the  classics.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  translation  of  part  of  the  fourth  Georgic,  which 
Dryden  commended  as  if  he  believed  it  equal  to  his  own 
work. 

It  seems  clear  that  Addison  at  first  expected  to  become 
a  clergyman,  but  circumstances  changed  his  purpose. 
Congreve  introduced  him  to  Cliarles  Montague,  Chancellor 
of  the  Exchequer  and  later  Earl  of  Halifax,  and  he  after- 
wards gained  the  favor  of  Lord  Somers  by  dedicating  to 
him  a  poem  "To  the  King"  (lG9e5):  through  the  inter- 
vention of  these  two  noblemen  he  secured  a  pension  of 
£300,  with  which  he  set  out  to  travel  on  the  continent. 

In  1699  he  left  England  for  France.  For  about  a  year 
he  lived  in  comparative  retirement,  studying  the  French  lan- 
guage. In  Paris  he  met  Boileau,  who,  it  is  said,  first  formed 
a  favorable  opinion  of  English  ability  to  write  poetry,  by 
reading  Addison's  Latin  verses.  In  1700  Addison  pro- 
ceeded to  Italy,  made  a  tour  of  its  principal  cities,  and 
finally  came  to  Geneva.  There  he  expected  to  receive  an 
appointment  from  King  William  to  attend  Prince  Eugene's 
army  as  a  Secretary.  But  William  died  in  March,  1702, 
and  Addison  found  himself  not  only  without  employment 
but  without  his  pension. 

"Thus  Addison,  by  lords  caress'd, 
Was  left  in  foreign  lands  distress'd  ; 
Forgot  at  home,  became  for  hire 
A  travelling  tutor  to  a  squire  : 
But  wisely  left  the  Muse's  hill, 
To  business  shaped  the  poet's  quill, 


xxvi  INTRODUCTION 

Let  all  his  barren  laurels  fade, 
Took  up  himself  tlie  courtier's  trade. 
And,  grown  a  minister  of  state, 
Saw  poets  at  his  levees  wait," 

wrote  one  of  his  contemporaries  in  later  years.^  But  there 
was  less  truth  than  poetry  (or  rhyme)  in  these  lines:  for 
Addison  was  not  "forgot  at  home,"  did  not  become  a 
"  travelling  tutor;  "  did  7iot  "  leave  the  Muse's  hill,"  but 
climbed  higher;  had  not  had  "barren"  honors  and  they 
didn't  "  fade;  "  and  was  never  in  any  true  sense  a  "  cour- 
tier." He  did  "shape  his  quill"  to  business,  however, 
and  later  in  life  became  a  high  "  minister  of  state."  Still, 
it  must  be  confessed  that  when  Addison  returned  to  Eng- 
land, late  in  1703,  the  outlook  was  somewhat  dismal.  His 
father  had  died  during  his  absence,  so  that  to  Joseph's  fallen 
fortunes  was  added  the  sorrow  of  personal  bereavement. 
But  the  innate  genius  of  the  author  soon  found  an  oppor- 
tunity for  its  display,  and  from  that  moment  his  upward 
career  was  almost  continuous. 

While  Addison  was  living  in  poverty, 

"Great  praise  the  Duke  of  Marlborougli  won. 
And  our  good  Prince  Eugene," 

by  gaining  the  "  famous  victory  "  at  Blenheim.  The  Lord 
Treasurer  of  England  one  day  said  to  the  Earl  of  Halifax 
that  he  wished  to  find  a  poet  worthy  to  celebrate  the  event. 
At  the  earl's  recommendation  the  commission  was  given  to 
Addison,  who  wrote  his  "  Campaign."  It  has  been  main- 
tained that  during  the  whole  of  the  so-called  "Augustas 
age  of  English  Literature" — the  reign  of  Queen  Anne — 
only  two  poems  of  note  were  written  in  Great  Britain,  and 
that  of  these  two  the  "  Campaign  "  was  oue.^     The  poem 

'  Swift.     A  Libel  on  Dr.  Delany. 

'  The  other  was  Pope's  Essay  on  Criticism.    See  Spectator,  No. 
253. 


IXTRODUCTION  xxvii 

is  not  ofteifread  in  these  days,  but  one  passage,  comparing 
Marlborough  to  an  angel  that 

"  Rides  in  the  wliirlwind  and  directs  the  storm," 

has  become  fairly  famous.' 

With  the  publication  of  the  ''  Campaign  "  began  a  rise 
in  Addison's  fortunes.  He  speedily  became  famous  and,  as 
Macaulay  says,  '*  climbed  higlier  in  the  State  than  any  other 
Englishman  has  ever,  by  means  mei'ely  of  literary  talents, 
been  able  to  climb."  He  became  Under  Secretary  of  State, 
Chief  Secretary  of  Ireland.  ^lember  of  Parliament,  and 
finally  Secretary  of  State. 

Addison  continued  to  Avrite  occasionally  in  the  midst  of 
his  political  activities.  He  produced  a  j^rologue  to  the 
"Tender  Husband"  of  Steele,  published  his  "  Eemarks 
on  Italy" — a  description  of  his  travels  during  tliree  years 
— and  brought  out  an  opera,  "Rosamond."  The  last 
seems  to  have  been  a  notorious  failure,  though  ^lacaulay 
thinks  the  music  to  which  it  was  set  was  responsible  for 
the  failure.  Finalh',  in  1709,  he  began  his  contributions 
to  the  Tatler,  and  followed  those  with  his  papers  in  the 
Spectator,  interspersed  with  some  political  writings.  In 
1713,  just  after  the  Spectator  had  closed  its  seventh  vol- 
ume, and  while  the  Guardian  was,  in  a  sense,  taking  its 
place,  Addison  busied  himself  in  writiug  the  concluding 
act  of  "  Cato,"  a  tragedy  of  which  he  is  believed  to  have 
elaborated  the  greater  part  during  his  contiuental  travels, 
from  a  plan  which  he  had  sketched  while  still  at  Oxford. 
In  April,  the  play  was  produced  and  met  with  astonishing 
favor.  It  ran  for  thirty-five  nights  in  succession,  was 
translated  into  three  or  four  continental  languages,  and 
was  praised  by  Voltaire  as  superior  to  any  work  of  Shakes- 
peare's.    In  the  second  scene  occurs  the  famous  passage: 

*  An  interesting  but  highly  fanciful  sketch  of  the  writing  of  the 
Campaign,  and  of  Addison  at  this  period  of  his  career,  may  be  found 
in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  Thackeray's  Henry  Esmond. 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION 

"  'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  coniniand  success, 
But  well  do  more,  Senipronius  ;  we'll  deserve  it." 

Paradoxically  enough,  the  author  not  only  "  commanded 
success  "  upon  the  spot,  as  we  have  seen,  but  the  critics 
ever  since  his  day  have  labored  to  prove  that  he  did  not 
deserve  it.  Although  a  tragedy,  "  Cato  "  is  not  dramatic, 
and  the  stilted  and  sometimes  labored  declamation  too 
often  prevents  it  from  "  holding  the  mirror  up  to  nature. " 
Yet  there  are  several  lines  in  it  as  imperishable  as  any  that 
Shakespeare  or  Milton  ever  wrote;  lines  that  shall 

"  Flourish  in  immortal  youth. 
Unhurt  amidst  the  wars  of  elements, 
The  wi'ecks  of  matter,  and  the  crush  of  worlds."' 

After  the  production  of  "  Cato,"  Addison  contributed 
regularly  to  the  Guardian.  This  paper  had  been  begun 
by  Steele  on  March  12,  1713,  and  continued  every  week- 
day until  October  1  (175  numbers).  In  No.  33  we  find 
"  Cato  "  eulogized  by  Steele,  on  the  Saturday  following  its 
first  representation,  and  in  No.  67  Addison  makes  his  first 
contribution,  Avhich  is  followed  by  52  others.  In  June, 
1714,  he  revived  the  Spectator  and  edited  it  through  80 
numbers.  It  appeared  three  times  each  week,  but,  as 
Bishop  Hurd  remarks,  "  Everything  shows  that  Mr.  Addi- 
son was  much  embarrassed  in  contriving  how  to  protract 
this  paper  beyond  its  natural  term."  It  came  out  J^Ion- 
days,  Wednesdays,  and  Fridays,  until  December  20,  1714; 
but,  to  quote  Hurd  again,  "  the  speculations  turn  on 
general  topics,  ...  so  that  it  was  high  time  to  drop 
the  name  of  Spectator.''''  Yet,  according  to  Macaulay, 
this  "eighth  volume  of  the  Spectator  contains,  perhaps, 
the  finest  essays,  both  serious  and  playful,  in  the  English 
language." 

'  The  reader  will  be  interested  to  find  the  number  of  passages 
from  Cato  which  are  recorded  in  Barllett's  Familiar  Quotations. 


IXTRODUCTIOX  xxix 

In  1715  Addison  incurred  the  bitter  enmity  of  Pope. 
The  general  feeling  seems  to  be  that  Addison  was  much 
more  sinned  against  tliati  sinning,  and  the  "quarrel," 
famous  in  literary  annals,  seems  to  have  been  mainly  on 
Pope's  side.  The  matter  is  considerably  involved  and  is 
too  long  to  enter  upon  here.^  In  the  same  year  there 
appeared  a  comedy  entitled  '*■  The  Drummer,"  which  is  gen- 
erally ascribed  to  Addison,  though  it  was  not  included  in 
the  first  collected  edition  of  his  works.  It  did  not  prove 
successful,  and  has  well-nigh  fallen  into  oblivion.  After 
this,  the  most  of  his  productions  were  of  a  political  sort, 
and  near  the  close  of  his  life  ho  was  engaged  in  a  somewhat 
bitter  partisan  contention  witli  his  former  associate,  Steele. 

In  1710  Addison's  political  fortunes  suffered  from  a 
change  of  ministry,^  and  in  consequence  of  these  reverses, 
perhaps,  that  perverse  widow  tlio  Countess  of  Warwick, 
to  whose  hand  he  had  long  aspired,  looked  down  coldly 
upon  him.  But  upon  the  accession  of  George  I.,  in  1714, 
he  again  found  preferment  in  the  State,  and  presently  was 
appointed  for  a  second  time  Irish  Secretary.  ''It  never 
rains  but  it  pours."  Addison  had  amassed,  apparently,  a 
small  fortune  as  well  as  a  great  reputation  from  his  share 
in  the  Tatlers  and  Spectators  j  had  been  made  famous 
throughout  Europe  by  his  tragedy  of  "  Cato  ;  "  was  now  a 
favorite  of  the  predominant  party;  and  in  August,  171G, 
the  Countess  capitulated.  To  crown  all,  in  1717  he  was 
appointed  Secretary  of  State — the  highest  rung  in  the  lad- 
der to  which  the  "  Campaign  "  had  proved  a  stepping-stone. 
Of  the  last  two  bits  of  fortune.  Lady  Mary  Montague  wrote 
to  Pope: 

"  I  received  the  news  of  Mr.  Addison's  being  declared 
Secretary  of   State  with  the  less  surprise,  in  that  I  know 

'  A  full  and  dispassionate  discussion  of  the  case  may  be  found  in 
Courthope's  Addison,  chap,  vii.,  and  a  passionate,  almost  dramatic, 
presentation  in  Macaulav's  Essay  on  Addison, 

"  See  p.  109,  note  2. 


XXX  INTRODUCTION 

that  post  was  almost  offered  to  liim  before.  At  that  time 
he  declined  it,  and  I  really  believe  that  he  would  have  done 
well  to  have  declined  it  now.  Such  a  post  as  that,  and 
such  a  wife  as  the  Countess,  do  not  seem  to  be,  in  prudence, 
eligible  for  a  man  that  is  asthmatic,  and  we  may  see  the 
day  when  he  will  be  heartily  glad  to  resign  them  both." 

It  is  probable  that  the  marriage  did  not  prove  a  happy 
one,  but  if  so  Addison  did  not  have  to  suffer  long.  His 
health  failed  him  soon  after  he  was  made  Secretary,  and  in 
1719  he  died. 

Throughout  his  life,  Addison  was  a  sincere  Christian, 
and  on  his  dying  bed  he  sent  for  his  step-son,  a  dissipated 
young  nobleman,  "  to  see  in  what  peace  a  Christian  could 
die."  His  personality  was  an  amiable  one,  and  he  was 
greatly  beloved  by  most  of  his  associates.  Tickell  wrote 
an  elegy  upon  him  which,  as  Macaulay  says,  "would  do 
honor  to  the  greatest  name  in  our  literature."  AVith 
Swift,  his  relations  were  for  the  most  part  cordial,  though 
Swift  was  a  bitter  Tory  and  Addison  a  zealous  Whig. 
Steele  loved  and  admired  him,  though,  as  we  have  seen, 
there  was  an  unhappy  estrangement  between  them  at  the 
time  of  Addison's  death.  But  the  old  affection  returned. 
In  the  preface  to  '*  The  Drummer,"  published  soon  after, 
Steele  refers  feelingly  to  the  fact  that  he  (Steele)  had  ever 
'^rejoiced  iu  being  excelled,"  and  was  gladly  *'  subservient 
to  the  superior  qualities  of  his  friend  Avhom  he  loved." 
Pope  was  at  first  his  friend,  and  with  good  reason ;  for 
Addison  helped  by  means  of  the  Spectator  to  make  Pope's 
reputatiou.  But  when  the  Wasp  of  Twickenham  became 
angry,  he  forgot  all  debts  of  gratitude.  His  celebrated 
satire  upon  Addison  contains  point  as  well  as  poison,  for  it 
outlines  some  undoubted  frailties  of  "Atticus,"  commin- 
gled with  passing  mention  of  certain  of  his  talents  and 
accomplishments,  so  as  to  give  a  crafty  semblance  of  realism 
to  the  whole.     It  has  been  most  aptly  termed 


INTRODUCTIOX  xxxi 


Pope\s  Vhnomed  Shaft. 

*'  Peace  to  all  such  !  but  were  tlieie  one  whose  fires 
True  genius  kindles,  and  fair  fame  inspires  ; 
Blest  with  each  talent  and  each  art  to  please. 
And  born  to  write,  converse,  and  live  at  ease  : 
Should  such  a  man,  too  fond  to  rule  alone, 
Bear,  like  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne, 
View  him  with  scornful,  yet  with  jealous  eyes, 
And  hate  for  arts  that  caused  himself  to  rise  ; 
Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer. 
And  without  sneering  teach  the  rest  to  sneer  ; 
Willing  to  wound,  and  yet  afraid  to  strike, 
Just  hint  a  fault,  and  hesitate  dislike  ; 
Alike  reserved  to  blame,  or  to  commend, 
A  tim'rous  foe,  and  a  suspicious  friend  ; 
Dreading  ev'n  fools,  by  flatterers  besieged, 
And  so  obliging,  that  he  ne'er  obliged  ; 
Like  '  Cato,'  give  his  little  senate  laws. 
And  sit  attentive  to  his  own  applause  ; 
While  wits  and  Templars  every  sentence  raise, 
And  wonder  with  a  foolish  face  of  praise  : — 
Who  but  must  laugh,  if  such  a  man  there  be  ? 
Who  would  not  weep,  if  Atticus  were  he  ?  " 


Richard  Steele. 

For  many  years  the  date  of  Steele's  birth  was  in  dispute. 
It  was  believed  that  he  was  younger  than  Addison,  and 
indeed  Thackeray,  drawing  upon  his  exuberant  imagina- 
tion, says  that  Steele  fagged  for  Addison  at  school,  ran  of 
his  errands,  and  blacked  his  boots.  But  recent  investiga- 
tions have  proved  that  he  was  born  on  the  12th  of  March, 
1<572;  thus  he  was  about  six  weeks  older  than  Addison. 
Add  to  this  the  fact  that  Steele  went  to  the  famous  Charter- 
house school  about  two  years  before  Addison  Avas  sent 
thither,  and  Thackeray's  picturesque  account  of  the  "  head 
boy,"  which  he  relates  with  such  telling  effect,  falls  below 


xxxii  INTRODUCTION 

the  rank  of  historical  fiction  into  that  of  fictitious  biog^ 
raphy. 

Although  Steele  always  wished  to  be  considered  an  Eng- 
lishman, he  was  born  in  Dublin  and  died  in  Wales.  His 
father  died  when  he  was  about  five  years  old,  and  one  of 
the  most  pathetic  passages  which  Steele  ever  wrote  is  a 
description  of  his  own  remembrance  of  the  sad  event.^  It 
is  not  quite  certain  how  long  his  mother  lived,  but  she  must 
have  died  soon  after  her  husband. 

Left  thus  early  an  orphan,  Steele  was  cared  for  by  an 
uncle,  who  provided  the  means  of  a  good  education. 
When  he  was  about  twelve  years  old  he  was  admitted  to 
the  Charterhouse  "upon  the  foundation,"  and  there  pre- 
pared for  Oxford.  In  168G  Joseph  Addison  entered  the 
same  school,  and  a  friendship  sprung  up  between  these  two 
congenial  boys,  destined  to  last  almost  uninterrupted  until 
they  were  separated  by  death,  and  to  remain  a  fragrant 
memory  with  the  survivor — Steele. 

But  although  Steele  went  first  to  the  fitting  school,  he 
went  last  to  the  university,  and  chose  a  different  college, 
Christ's  Church.  His  life  at  college  seems  to  have  been  a 
happy  one,  and  he  gave  some  evidence  of  literary  tastes;  but 
he  left  Oxford  in  1694,  enlisting  as  a  private  in  the  Horse 
Guards.  This  step  was  probably  due  to  his  natural  bent 
towards  an  active  life.  In  later  life  he  thus  describes  it, 
speaking  of  himself  in  the  third  person : 

"  When  he  mounted  a  war-horse,  with  a  great  sword  in 
his  hand,  and  planted  himself  behind  King  AVilliam  the 
Third  against  Lewis  the  Fourteentli,  he  lost  the  succession 
to  a  very  good  estate  in  Ireland,  from  tlie  same  humor 
which  he  has  pursued  ever  since,  of  preferring  the  state 
of  his  mind  to  that  of  his  fortune." 

Steele's  pen  proved  mightier  than  his  sword.  With 
this  he  won  his  first  promotion,  for  he  wrote  a  poem  upon 
the  death  of  the  queen  and  dedicated  it,  although  anony- 

»  Tatler  No.  181. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

mously,  to  Lord  Cutts,  a  gallant  soldier  and  an  ardent  Whig 
of  literary  tastes.  Steele  alluded  to  his  lordship's  ability 
as  a  poet,  and  signed  himself  his  ''  most  passionate  admirer 
and  most  devoted  humble  servant. "  In  conscf|Ucnce,  Lord 
Cutts  made  his  passionate  admirer  a  member  of  his  military 
household,  and  got  him  an  ensign's  commission  in  the 
Coldstream  Guards,  Avhich  he  himself  commanded. 

From  this  date  there  is  little  to  record  of  iSteele  until 
1700.  By  that  time  he  had  become  a  captain,  and  in  that 
year  we  find  him  warmly  defending  Addison  against  some 
epigrams  of  Sir  Richard  Blackmore  (see  page  17,  note  3), 
and  fighting,  against  his  will,  a  duel,  in  which  he  seriously 
wounded  his  antagonist — a  circumstance  Avhich  perhaps 
accounts  for  his  frequent  condemnations  of  duelling  in  the 
Tatler  and  the  Spectator. 

While  in  the  army,  Steele  had  dissolute  associates  and 
found  himself  yielding  to  the  temptations  of  an  irregular 
life.  He  consequently  wrote  a  little  work  called  the  "  Chris- 
tian Hero,"  which  he  designed  as  a  private  monitor  to  keep 
himself  in  the  paths  of  virtue.  As  he  still  found  it  hard 
to  reconcile  his  deeds  and  his  duties,  he  resolved  to  publish 
his  book,  *'  in  hopes,"  he  says,  ''  that  a  standing  testimony 
against  himself  might  curb  his  desires  and  make  him 
ashamed  of  understanding  and  seeming  to  feel  what  was 
virtuous,  and  living  so  quite  contrary  a  life."  Years  later, 
however,  he  remarked  that  his  book  "had  no  other  good 
effect,  but  that  from  being  thought  no  nndelightful  com- 
panion, he  was  soon  reckoned  a  disagreeable  fellow." 

But  whatever  his  real  faults,  Steele  had  an  honest  desire 
to  make  the  world  better.  The  English  stage  was  then 
notoriously  immoral,  ajid  writers  of  reputation  lent  their 
influence  to  keep  it  so.  Steele  took  a  noble  stand  and  wrote 
several  comedies  far  above  the  level  of  his  age.  They  were 
not  great  works:  the  style  is  often  unnatural  and  prosy, 
but  they  deserve  remembrance  as  the  first  serious  effort  of 
a  playwright  to  reverse  the  current  of  public  taste.     The 


xxxiv  INTRODUCTION 

revulsion  came  in  time,  and  Steele's  comedies,  supple- 
mented in  the  Tatler  and  Spectator'  by  his  more  graceful 
prose,  had  no  small  effect  in  creating  a  love  of  virtue  and 
a  contempt  for  vice. 

In  1702  Steele  was  appointed  a  Captain  of  Foot  in  Lord 
Lucas's  regiment,  Avhere  he  remained,  always  on  duty  in 
or  near  London,  till  after  the  death  of  his  colonel  in 
1705.  In  the  spring  of  that  year  he  married  Margaret 
Stretch,  a  widow,  who  had  an  estate  of  some  value. in  the 
Barbadoes.  About  this  time  Steele  sold  his  commission, 
and,  according  to  a  malicious  rumor,  squandered  his  avail- 
able means  in  a  fruitless  search  for  the  philosopher's  stone. 
Steele's  first  wife  lived  less  than  two  years;  and  less  than  a 
year  later  he  married  Mary  Scurlock,  a  Welsh  "beauty." 
Before  the  death  of  his  first  wife  he  had  been  appointed 
gentleman-waiter  to  Prince  George  (husband  of  Queen 
Anne)  at  £100  a  year,  and  shortly  after  her  death  he  was 
made  Gazetteer,  with  a  salary  of  £300.  He  says  of  him- 
self in  this  new  office,  that  "  his  next  appearance  as  a  writer 
was  in  the  quality  of  the  lowest  Minister  of  State — to  wit, 
in  the  office  of  Gazetteer;  where  he  worked  faithfully  accord- 
ing to  order,  without  ever  erring  against  the  rule  observed 
by  all  Ministries,  to  keep  that  paper  very  innocent  and 
very  insipid." 

Notwithstanding  a  considerable  income,  Steele  was 
throughout  the  rest  of  his  life  perpetually  harassed  by 
debt.  This  has  been  attributed  to  dissipation,  but  it  was 
probably  due  more  to  mismanagement.  His  second  mar- 
riage seems  to  have  been  a  very  happy  one,  and  many  of  his 
letters  to  "Dear  Prue  "  have  been  preserved,  which  are 
often  an  amusing  medley  of  conjugal  affection  and  financial 
distress.  In  1708  Prince  George  died,  but  the  salary  of 
the  gentleman-waiter  was  continued  in  the  form  of  a  pen- 
sion. Meantime  Steele's  debts  accumulated.  Matters  were 
in  a  confused  state  when  some  good  genius,  perhaps  Swift, 
whispered  into  Steele's  ear  the  idea  of  the  TatJer.     The 


INTR  OB  UCTION  XXXV 

story  of  its  rise  has  been  already  told  and  need  not  be 
repeated.  It  made  for  Steele  a  high  place  in  English  litera- 
ture, and  was  no  small  help  financially,  although  he  did 
not  escape  arrest  for  debt.  In  1710  he  was  made  a  Commis- 
sioner of  Stamps  with  £300  a  year,  but  this  was  offset  in 
the  same  year  by  the  loss  of  his  Gazetteership,  for  political 
reasons,  and  shortly  after  he  brought  his  periodical  to  a 
close. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  about  two  months  after  the 
close  of  the  Tathr,  the  Sjjectator  began;  and  it  will  be  seen 
by  a  reference  to  Chapter  IT.  that  Steele  first  sketched  the 
character  of  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley:  but  Addison  was  prin- 
cipally concerned  afterwards  in  filling  in  the  sketch.  That 
he  gave  the  most  masterly  strokes  to  Sir  Roger's  portrait, 
few  will  dispute;  yet  Steele  must  be  given  credit  for  much 
that  is  fine  in  it.  But  finally  Addison  "  killed  Sir  Eoger 
that  no  one  else  might  murder  him,"  and  shortly  after 
that  the  Spectator,  so  far  as  Steele  had  anything  to  do  with 
it,  came  to  a  close  with  its  five  hundred  and  fifty-fifth 
number. 

On  March  12,  1713,  Steele  became  identified  with  the 
publication  of  a  new  periodical,  the  Guardian, ;  but  this 
was  inferior  to  both  the  Tatler  and  the  Spectator  in  literary 
interest,  though  it  marks  the  beginning  of  a  political 
career,  in  which  he  proved  himself  a  sturdy  defeuder  of 
Whig  principles.  Meanwhile,  in  the  preceding  summer, 
Steele  sent  in  his  resignation  as  Commissioner  of  Stamps, 
gave  up  his  pension  as  gentleman-w^aitcr,  and  stood  for 
Parliament,  to  which  he  was  elected  in  August.  Immedi- 
ately after  discontinuing  the  Guardian,  he  began  another 
publication — The  Englishman — professedly  political,  in 
which,  as  well  as  in  a  pamphlet  called  "  The  Crisis,"  he  made 
a  powerful  attack  on  the  Tory  government.  For  these 
utterances  he  was  tried  by  Parliament  and  expelled  from 
the  House.  But  the  deatti  of  Queen  Anne  and  the  accession 
of  George  I.  gave  the  victory  to  the  Whigs,  and  turned  the 


xxxvi  INTRODUCTION 

tide  of  Steele's  fortune.  He  was  given  several  valuable 
offices,  including  the  control  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  was 
knighted  by  the  king,  and  again  returned  to  Parliament. 
In  1714  he  published  two  short-lived  periodicals,  the  Lover 
and  the  Reader,  and  in  1715  a  short  second  volume  of  the 
Englishman. 

In  1718  Steele's  wife  died,  and  in  1719  he  became 
engaged  in  a  political  controversy  with  Addison.  This 
quarrel,  the  only  one  of  their  lives,  was  suddenly  brought 
to  a  close — not  by  a  reconciliation,  but  by  the  death  of 
Addison.  We  may  imagine  with  what  grief  Steele's  ten- 
der heart  was  penetrated  in  consequence. 

There  is  little  to  be  said  of  Steele  after  the  death  of 
Addison.  He  took  part  against  the  South  Sea  Bubble,  was 
for  some  time  engaged  in  theatrical  affairs,  and  wrote  his 
fourth  comedy;  but  he  was  continually  involved  in  pecu- 
niary embarrassments,  and  withdrew  to  a  small  estate  in 
Wales  which  he  inherited  from  his  second  wife,  where  he 
died  in  1729. 

It  was  formerly  the  custom  to  think  lightly  of  the 
character  of  •' poor  Dick  Steele."*  For  this,  Macaulay, 
Thackeray,  and  Steele  himself  are  largely  responsible. 
Macaulay,  Avith  his  innate  love  of  unlithesis,  having  raised 
one  mortal  to  the  skies,  felt  impelled  to  reverse  the  process 
when  he  considered  Steele;  and  instead  of  drawing  him 
down,  he  dragged  him.     Thus  he  says : 

"  Steele  had  left  college  without  taking  a  degree,  had 
been  disinherited  by  a  rich  relation,  had  led  a  vagrant  life, 
had  served  in  the  army,  had  tried  to  find  the  philosopher'? 
stone,  and  ha^l  written  a  religious  treatise  and  several  come- 

'Much  wrong  was  done  to  Steele's  memory  by  the  personal  attacks 
of  his  political  antagonists,  perhaps  the  bitterest  of  which  was 
made  by  Swift  in  the  cruel  lines  : 

"  Thus  Steele,  who  owned  what  others  writ, 
And  flourished  b.r  imputed  wit. 
From  perils  of  a  Luuured  jails. 
Withdrew  to  starve  and  die  in  Waleg." 


IXTRODUCTIOX  xxxvii 

dies.  He  was  one  of  tliose  j^eople  Avliom  it  is  impossible 
eitlier  to  hate  or  to  respect.  His  temper  was  sweety  his 
affections  warm,  his  spirits  lively,  his  passions  strong,  and 
his  principles  weak.  J  lis  life  was  passed  in  sinning  and 
repenting;  in  inculcating  what  was  right,  and  doing  what 
was  wrong.  In  speculation,  he  was  a  man  of  piety  and 
honor;  in  practice  he  was  much  of  the  rake  and  a  little 
of  the  swindler."  ^ 

Thackeray  writes  of  Steele  in  his  most  charming  vein, 
but  there  is  one  material  defect  in  his  description,  lie  tells 
what  might  have  been  instead  of  what  was,  and  his  fanci- 
ful sketches  of  Steele  and  Addison  in  "  Ilenrv  Esmond" 
are  as  reliable  as  his  false  facts  and  mistaken  inferences  in 
his  lectures  on  the  ^'  English  Humorists."     Hear  him: 

"  Besides  being  very  kind,  lazy,  and  good-natured,  this 
boy  went  invariably  into  debt  with  the  tart  woman;  ran 
out  of  bounds,  and  entered  into  pecuniary,  or  rather  prom- 
issory, engagements  with  the  neighboring  lollipop  venders 
and  piemen;  exhibited  an  early  fondness  and  capacity  for 
drinking  mum  and  sack;  and  borrowed  from  all  his  com- 
rades who  had  money  to  lend."  ^ 

Here  even  Thackeray  feels  that  it  is  due  to  his  reader  to 
state  that  all  these  bits  of  interesting  detail  are  not  matters 
of  absolute  record,  and  he  continues : 

"I  have  no  sort  of  authority  for  the  statements  here 
made  of  Steele's  early  life;  but  if  the  child  is  father  of 
the  man,  the  father  of  young  Steele  of  Merton,  who  left 
Oxford  without  taking  a  degree,  and  entered  the  Life 
Guards — the  father  of  Captain  Steele  of  Lucas's  Fusi- 
leers,  who  got  his  company  through  the  patronage  of  my 
Lord  Cutts — the  father  of  Mr.  Steele  the  Commissioner 
of  Stamps,  the  editor  of  the  Gazette,  the  Tatler,  and  Spec- 
tator, the  expelled  Member  of  Parliament,  and  the  author 
of  the  'Tender  Husband'  and  the  'Conscious   Lovers;' 

'  Essay  on  Addison. 

*  English  Humorists — Steele. 


xxxviii  INTRODUCTION 

— if  man  and  boy  resembled  each  other,  Dick  Steele  must 
have  been  one  of  the  most  generous,  good-for-nothing, 
amiable  little  creatures  that  ever  conjugated  the  verb 
tup  to,  I  beat,  tuptomai,  I  am  whipped,  in  any  school  in 
Great  Britain."! 

He  then  makes  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  Addison 
was  several  years  older  than  Steele  (instead  of  six  weeks  his 
junior)  and  that  when  Steele  went  to  the  Charterhouse 
he  was  in  a  lower  form  and  fagged  for  Addison  (Steele 
Avent  to  this  school  in  1684  and  Addison  in  1686).  So  he 
proceeds  with  his  false  logic,  for  which,  again,  he  has  "  no 
sort  of  authority  ' ' : 

"  Dick  Steele,  the  Charterhouse  gownboy,  contracted 
such  an  admiration  [for  the  head  boy  of  his  school]  in  the 
years  of  his  childhood,  and  retained  it  faithfully  through 
his  life.  Through  the  school  and  through  the  world, whith- 
ersoever his  strange  fortune  led  this  erring,  wayward, 
affectionate  creature,  Joseph  Addison  was  always  his  head 
boy.  Addison  wrote  his  exercises.  Addison  did  his  best 
themes.  He  ran  on  Addison's  messages,  fagged  for  him, 
and  blacked  his  shoes.  To  be  in  Joe's  company  was  Dick's 
greatest  pleasure;  and  he  took  a  sermon  or  a  caning  from 
liis  monitor  with  the  most  boundless  reverence,  acquies- 
cence, and  affection."^ 

Every  part  of  Thackeray's  article  is  most  delightful 
reading;  but  although,  unlike  Macaulay,  he  does  not 
excite  our  scorn  of  Steele,  he  arouses  only  our  sympathy 
— not  our  admiration. 

It  has  been  said  that  Steele  himself  is  partly  responsible 
for  the  view  of  his  ability  and  character  that  has  prevailed. 
This  is  true,  for  while  Macaulay  contemns  and  Thackeray 
commiserates  him,  he  disparages  himself  repeatedly,  and 
constantly  refers  to  Addison  as  his  superior: 

"  I  fared  like  a  distressed  prince,  who  calls  in  a  power- 
ful neighbor  to  his  aid;  I  was  undone  by  my  auxiliary; 

'  English  Humorists — Steele.  *  Ibid. 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXIX 


when  I  had  once  called  him  in,  I  could  not  subsist  with- 
out dependence  on  him."  ' 

"  I  shall  not  carry  my  humility  so  far  as  to  call  myself  a 
vicious  man,  but  at  tlie  same  time  must  confess,  ray  life  is 
at  best  but  pardonable." ~ 

"  The  most  approved  pieces  in  it  [the  Ihller]  were  writ- 
ten by  others,  and  those  whicli  have  been  most  excepted 
against,  by  myself.  The  hand  tluit  has  assisted  me  in  those 
noble  discourses  .  .  .  is  a  person  who  is  too  fondly  my 
friend  ever  to  own  them;  but  I  should  little  deserve  to  be 
his,  if  I  usurped  the  glory  of  them.  I  must  acknowledge 
at  the  same  time,  that  I  think  the  finest  strokes  of  wit  and 
humor  in  all  Mr.  Bickerstaff's  lucubrations,  are  those  for 
which  he  is  also  beholden  to  him,"^ 

*' I  am,  indeed,  much  more  proud  of  his  [Addison's] 
long-continued  friendshiji,  than  I  should  be  of  being 
thought  the  author  of  any  writings  which  he  himself  is 
capable  of  producing.  I  remember  when  I  finished  the 
"Tender  Husband,"  I  told  liim  there  was  nothing  I  so 
ardently  wished,  as  that  we  might  some  time  or  other  pub- 
lish a  work  written  by  us  both,  which  should  bear  the 
name  of  the  Monument,  in  honor  of  our  friendship.  I 
heartily  wish  what  I  have  done  here  were  as  honorary  to 
that  sacred  name,  as  learning,  wit,  and  humanity  render 
those  pieces  which  I  have  taught  the  reader  how  to  distin- 
guish for  his.  When  the  ])lay  above  mentioned  was  last 
acted,  there  were  so  many  applauded  strokes  in  it  which 
I  had  from  the  same  hand,  that  I  thought  very  meanly  of 
myself  that  I  had  never  publicly  acknowledged  them."* 

"  I  rejoiced  in  being  excelled,  and  made  those  little 
talents,  whatever  they  are,  which  I  have,  give  way  and  be 
subservient  to  the  superior  qualities  of  a  friend  whom  I 
loved.  .  .  .  But  whatever  Steele  owes  to  Mr.  Addi- 
son, the  public  owes  Addison  to  Steele.  "^ 

The  only  "  reputation  "  of  whicli  Steele  seemed  especially 
jealous  was  that  of  fairness  and  justice.  His  preface  to  Ad- 
dison's *'  Drummer  "  shows  that.     He  is  wildly  indignant 

'  Preface  to  the  octavo  edition  of  the  Taller,  vol.  iv. 

"  Taller  No.  271  (last  number).  '  Ibid. 

*  Spectator  No,  555.  *  Preface  to  the  Drummer. 


xl  INTRODUCTION 

at  the  imputations  of  Tickell  that  he  could  be  "guilty  of 
anything  that  was  disingenuoug."  But  lie  candidly  admits 
that  he  always  "  preferred  the  state  of  his  mind  to  that  of 
his  fortune;  "  that  Addison  "  could  always  send  for  him, 
from  his  natural  power  over  him,  as  much  as  he  could  send 
for  any  of  his  clerks  when  he  was  Secretary  of  State;" 
and  when,  in  Tatler  No.  89,  he  gives  a  whimsical  picture 
of  himself,  he  seems  perfectly  willing  to  be  laughed  at. 

But  tardy  justice  is  at  last  being  done  to  Steele.  John 
Forster  in  his  "  Essay,"  Mr.  Aitken  in  his  extended 
"Life,"  and  Austin  Dobson  in  his  brief  one,  present  the 
amiable  founder  of  the  Tatter  in  a  far  more  favorable  light 
as  to  literary  ability  and  especially  as  to  character,  so  that 
were  Leigh  Hunt  now  living  he  would  have  added  reason 
for  his  famous  remark : 

"  I  love  Steele  with  all  Ms  faults  better  than  Addison 
with  all  his  essays." 

Eustace  Budgell. 

This  unfortunate  writer  was  also  an  Oxford  man,  and 
intended  to  follow  the  law.  But  Addison,  who  was  his 
cousin,  and  several  years  his  senior,  took  him  to  Ireland 
as  a  clerk  when  he  himself  received  his  first  appointment  as 
Irish  Secretary.  Budgell  developed  considerable  literary 
ability,  and  wrote  occasional  jTapers  for  the  Tatter,  Specta- 
tor, and  Guardian.  Chapters  XV.  and  XXXI.  of  this  col- 
lection are  from  his  pen,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  he  has  suc- 
cessfully imitated  the  Addisonian  style.  Later  he  became 
a  member  of  the  Irish  Parliament,  and  not  long  after  was 
made  comptroller-general  of  the  Irish  revenues.  Macaulay 
thinks  that  if  x\ddison  had  lived,  Budgell  would  have  pros- 
pered, but  he  paints  a  most  lurid  picture  of  his  closing 
years.  He  is  said  to  have  lost — one  year  after  Addison's 
death — £30,000  in  the  South  Sea  Bubble,  and  to  have 
spent  £5,000  more  in  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  enter 
Parliament.     lie  founded  the   Bee,  a  short-lived  literary 


INTRODUCTION  xli 

periodical,  endeavored  to  retriev(i  liis  numerous  failures 
by  forgery,  and  finally,  in  1(>3G.  loading  liis  pockets  with 
stones,  leaped  into  the  Thames  from  a  boat  near  London 
Bridge  and  was  drowned. 

On  his  table  was  found  a  slip  of  paper  containing  the 
words, 

"  What  Cato  did  and  Addison  approved,  cannot  be 
wrong."  ^ 

'  Budfi^ell's  inference  was  untrue.  Those  who  read  the  words  of  the 
dying  Cato  will  see  that  Addison  makes  even  the  stern  Roman  re- 
pent of  his  deed,  and  confess  the  fear  that  he  lias  been  too  hasty. 


SUGGESTIONS   FOR  TEACHERS   AND 
STUDENTS 

"Whex  books  "for  reading"  are  prescribed  by  our  col- 
leges, it  is  not  wise  to  look  upon  them  as  an  added  load  to 
the  already  considerable  burden  under  which  young  men 
and  women  struggle  up  the  steep  hill  Difficulty  toward 
the  palace  Beautiful  and  fields  that  are  wide  and  green ; — 
rather  do  they  resemble  the  arbor  by  the  way,  built  by  the 
lord  of  the  country,  in  which  Pilgrim  sat  down  for  a  while 
to  rest  and  refresh  himself.  They  should  profit  by  Pil- 
grim's experience,  however,  and  not  fall  asleep  while 
resting. 

Although  Queen  Anne  herself  was  not  a  particularly 
attractive  character,  she  has  lent  her  name  to  an  era  which, 
in  social,  political,  and  literary  interest,  rivals  any  period 
of  English  civilization ;  and  there  is  no  better  gate  of 
admission  to  this  interesting  field  than  that  presided  over 
by  Addison  and  Steele.  The  de  Coverley  papers  are  by 
common  consent  among  the  choicest  portions  of  the  Spec- 
tator, and  the  Spectator  and  Tatler  are  undeniably  superior 
to  any  of  the  periodical  essays  of  the  time.  They  are  the 
beginnings  of  elegant  periodical  literature;  and  though 
they  have  had  countless  imiUitors,  few,  if  any,  have  equalled 
them,  and  none  have  surpassed  them. 

Interest  in  a  subject  increases  with  knowledge.  I  have 
found  it  an  incentive  to  exhaustive  work  to  begin  with  an 
outline  of  some  subject — whether  in  history,  literature,  or 
biography — and,  using  this  as  a  skeleton,  to  proceed  to 
clothe  it  with  flesh  and  endue  it  with  life.  These  papers 
very  happily   present  such  an   outline  of   social   life   in 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR  TEACHERS  AND  STUDENTS   xliii 

Qneen  Anne's  time.  Allusions  arc  constantly  made  to 
obsolete  customs  and  fashions,  then  matters  of  common, 
everyday  experience,  that  pique  our  curiosity  and  make 
us  eager  to  know  more.  The  notes  in  this  editio-n  are  not 
intended  to  clear  away  all  obstructions.  Many  of  them 
serve  merely  as  finger-posts  to  point  the  way  to  unfamiliar 
regions;  others  aim  to  lead  tiie  thinking  pupil  to  conclu- 
sions of  his  own  and  to  tempt  him  sooner  or  later  into  the 
field  of  original  research. 

While  it  is  believed  that  the  charm  of  these  essays  is  so 
great  that  the  pupil  of  develo])ing  literary  sense  will  read 
and  search,  read  and  search,  read  and  search  and  read  again, 
on  independent  lines, — yet  for  concerted  class-work  some 
method  like- the  following  is  suggested,  subject  of  course 
to  the  limitations  of  time  and  circumstance. 

I.  It  is  assumed  that  every  student  will  have  access  to 
a  complete  Spectator,  and  it  is  hoped  that  most  will  be 
able  to  consult  a  complete  Tatter  also.  All  who  have  this 
opportunity  are  urged  to  read  the])apers  referred  to  in  the 
notes,  leisurely,  as  they  were  read  when  published.  Soon 
they  will  find  themselves  breathing  in  the  very  atmosphere 
of  old-time  days, — drinking  coffee  and  listening  to  the 
latest  news  from  Flanders,  not  over  three  days  old;  tiptoe- 
ing along  the  muddy  alleys,  dodging  into  the  sho})s  to  avoid 
a  city  shower,  jostling  to  keep  the  wall,  and  going  home  at 
night  by  link  and  chair  through  the  narrow  streets  of 
Mohock-infested  London. 

II.  While  thus  becoming  familiar  with  the  daily  life  of 
modern  Babylon  two  centuries  ago,  the  readers  will  con-; 
tinually  stumble  upon  political  allusions  and  historical  refer- 
ences, which  will  need  to  be  cleared  up  in  order  to  ensure  a 
full  appreciation  and  consequent  enjoyment  of  the  sub- 
ject. A  question  box  may  be  kept  at  the  teacher's  desk, 
into  which  members  of  the  class  may  be  invited  to  drop 
requests  for  information  on  obscure  points.  These  may 
be  assigned  to  different  members  of  the  class  for  investiga- 


xliv    SUOOESTIONS  FOR  TEACHERS  AND  STUDENTS 

tion  and  written  report.  Thus  in  Chapter  III.  there  is  a 
reference  to  Sjjeciator  No.  262.  In  that  number  there  is 
a  mention  of  the  "  Eoyal  Society."  Some  might  be  curious 
to  know  whether  that  was  the  beginning  of  the  F.K.S.'s, 
and  if  so  what  the  Fellows  were  supposed  to  do.  An 
explanatory  note  would  be  helpful  to  all,  but  especially  to 
one  who  should  prepare  it. 

III.  To  insure  a  general  acquaintance  with  the  subject 
matter  of  the  Spectators  and  Tathrs  referred  to  in  the 
notes,  the  teacher  may  adapt  Benjamin  Franklin's  method 
to  his  class.  1  Thus  in  Chapter  I.,  eight  Spectators  and 
one  Tatler  are  referred  to.  Let  a  summary  of  these  be 
assigned  to  nine  pupils,  and  invite  all  who  will,  to  criticise 
as  well  as  to  summarize.  Let  this  work  be  written  into 
books  and  presented  at  the  next  recitation.  Books  con- 
taining work  of  this  sort  may  usually  be  submitted  as  a 
part  of  college  entrance  examinations. 

IV.  If  pupils  have  access  to  a  public  library,  they  should 
be  instructed  as  to  the  wealth  that  lies  within  their  grasp 
— too  often  unappropriated  through  ignorance  of  methods' 
of  research.  Steele  said  of  Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings 
{Tatler  No.  49)  "  To  love  her  is  a  liberal  education."  To 
be  a  book-lover  is  also  to  be  a  liberally  educated  man.  To 
get  inspiration  from  the  very  presence  of  books;  to  go 
readily  from  one  alcove  to  another  as  one  visits  the  houses 
of  his  friends;  to  become  familiar  with  Poole's  Index  and 
its  descendants,   and   with   the  growing  list  of   standard 

■  "  About  this  time  I  met  with  an  old  volume  of  the  Spectator.  It 
was  the  third.  1  had  never  before  seen  any  of  them.  I  bought  it, 
read  it  over  and  over,  and  was  much  delighted  with  it.  1  thought 
the  writing  excellent,  and  wished,  if  possible,  to  imitate  it.  With 
this  view  1  took  some  of  the  papers,  and  making  short  lunts  of  the 
sentiments  in  each  sentence,  laid  them  by  a  few  days,  and  then, 
without  looking  at  the  book,  tried  to  complete  the  papers  again. 
.  .  .  I  also  sometimes  jumbled  my  collections  of  hints  into  con- 
fusion, and  after  some  weeks  endeavored  to  reduce  them  into  the 
best  order,  before  I  began  to  form  the  full  sentences  and  complete 
the  paper.  This  was  to  teach  me  method  in  the  arrangement  of 
thoughts." — Franklin's  Autobiography. 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR  TEACHERS  AXD  STUDENTS    xlv 

works  of  reference;  to  learn  how  to  use  bibliographies,  and 
how  to  make  them  for  one's  self; — these  are  the  ways  of 
pleasantness,  the  paths  of  terrestrial  peace. 

V.  Formal  compositions  should  not  be  forgotten  in 
addition  to  the  frequent  and  varied  short  themes  already 
mentioned.  These  may  be  multiplied  ad  infinitum  as  one 
investigates  eighteenth  century  literature.  AVhenever  a 
topic  is  selected,  it  will  be  best  for  the  teacher  to  recom- 
mend books  which  will  be  useful  in  preparation,  and  to 
let  the  pupils  prepare  themselves  witli  notes.  When  the 
time  comes,  let  them  be  seated  with  a  sheet  of  notes  from 
which  to  elaborate  their  compositions.  The  notes  may  be 
passed  in  also,  to  prove  that  the  composition  is  actually 
coinposed.  A  list  of  possible  subjects  is  appended.  Doubt- 
less a  hundred  better  ones  may  be  found : 

Addison's  Boyhood.  Steinkirk.  The  Censorshiji  of 
the  Press.  The  Kit-Cat  Club.  The  Charterhouse. 
Coffee-houses.  The  Mohocks.  Whigs  and  Tories.  The 
Battle  of  Blenheim.  Addison  and  Steele.  Addison  and 
Swift.  Addison  and  Pope.  Steele  in  '"  Henry  Esmond." 
How  the  "Campaign"  was  written.  The  Countess  of 
Warwick.  Addison's  "Cato. "  'J'he  Great  Prose  Writers 
of  Queen  Anne's  Reign.  Early  Newspapers.  London 
Streets. 

VI.  Bibliography. 

The  Spectator.  The  best  edition  is  that  of  Henry  Morley 
(Koutledge,  1883),  in  three  volumes;  also  in  one  volume 
(1888,  fine  print).  The  advantage  of  the  latter  is  that 
William  Wheeler  has  prepared  a  Digest  Index  (Routledge) 
as  a  companion  volume. 

The  Tatler.  This  may  be  somewhat  difficult  to  procure. 
It  was  published  in  Boston  (4  vols.)  as  late  as  185G  and  in 
Edinburgh  {Tatler  and  Guardian,  Svo.)  in  1880.  In  the 
Chandos  Classics  (F.  Warne  and  Co.)  there  is  a  volume  of 
"  Selected  Essays,"  with  an  interesting  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Alex.  Charles  Ewald  (1888). 


xlvi    SUGGESTIONS  FOE  TEACHERS  AND  STUDENTS 

History.  Those  who  like  to  read  of  battles  and  study 
excellent  charts  of  the  opposing  forces^  can  find  a  full 
description  of  Blenheim,  Ramillies,  Oudenarde,  Malpla- 
quet,  etc.,  in  Sir  Archibald  Alison's  "Military  Life  of 
John,  Duke  of  Marlborough,"  wherein  are  portrayed  the 
"  consummate  abilities,"  "unbroken  success,"  and  "im- 
mense services"  of  the  same.  J.  Hill  Burton's  "History 
of  the  British  Empire  under  Queen  Anne  "  (Blackwood)  is 
the  best  and  most  readable  history  of  this  time.  The  last 
chapter — on  intellectual  progress — may  be  read  to  great 
advantage  in  connection  with  the  Roger  de  Coverley 
papers.  Bishop  Burnet's  "  History  of  my  own  Times  "  is 
' '  comparatively  worthless  as  an  authority,  but  valuable  as 
a  record  of  events  as  seen  by  one  who  helped  make  them." 
Edward  E.  Morris's  "Age  of  Anne"  (Longmans)  may 
also  be  read  with  profit.  A  list  of  books  on  Queen  Anne 
may  be  found  in  the  Literary  World,  July  2,  1881. 

Biography.  Addison: — Articles  in  "  Encyclopaedia  Bri- 
tannica;  "  Allibone's  "  Dictionary  of  English  Literature," 
"Dictionary  of  National  Biography;  "  Macaulay's  "  Essay 
on  Addison;"  Thackeray's  "English  Humorists"  and 
"  Henry  Esmond;  "  W.  J.  Courthope's  "  Addison  "  (Eng- 
lish Men  of  Letters  series);  H.  Ward's  "  English  Poets," 
vol.  iii. ;  Edmund  Gosse's  '"  History  of  Eighteenth  Century 
Literature,"  pp.  105-107,  189-195;  Taine's  "English  Lit- 
erature, vol.  ii.,  bk.  iii.;  Dr.  Johnson's  "Lives  of  the 
Poet*;  "  Chambers's  "  Cyclopedia  of  English  Literature;  " 
Lucy  Aikin's  "  Life  of  Addison." 

Steele: — Geo.  A.  Aitken's  "Life  of  Richard  Steele" 
(3  vols.,  London,  Isbister;  Boston,  Houghton  and  Miffliji) 
is  late,  complete,  and  authentic,  and  has  a  fine  bibli- 
ography of  collections,  single  works,  biography  and  criti- 
cism, magazine  articles,  pamphlets,  etc.  Austin  Dobson's 
"  Steele "  (London,  Longmans;  New  York,  Appleton) 
is  a  very  readable  small  book.  Like  John  Eorster's  "  Essay 
on  Steele  "  it  is  corrective  of  the  views  of  Macaulay  in  his 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR  TEACHERS  AND  STUDENTS  xlvii 

"  Essay  on  Addison"  and  of  Thackeray  in  his  "English 
Humorists"  and  "Henry  Esmond."  See  also  Gosse's 
"  History  of  Eighteenth  Century  Literature,"  pp.  186-192. 

Social  History. — Wm.  Connor  Sydney's  "  England  and 
the  English  in  the  Eighteentli  Century  "  should  be  read  by 
all  who  can  procure  it,  as  a  companion  volume  to  Sir  Eoger 
de  Coverley  (2  vols.,  London,  Ward  and  Downey;  New 
York,  Macmillan).  "  Social  Life  in  England  from  the 
Restoration  to  the  Revolution,"  by  the  same  author,  has 
much  that  is  interesting  concerning  the  reigns  previous 
to  Queen  Anne.  W.  H.  Davenport  Adams's  "  Good  Queen 
Anne"  is  admirable;  second  only  to  Burton's  history, 
mentioned  above.  See  also  H.  D.  Traill's  ''  Social  Eng- 
land," vol.  iv.,  p.  593  If.,  Wm.  Andrews's  "  Bygone  Eng- 
land," the  Duke  of  ^lanchester's  '"Court  and  Society  from 
Elizabeth  to  Anne,"  Index  (under  England — social)  to 
Lecky's  "  History  of  England  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury," Knight's  "  Popular  History  of  England,"  vol.  v., 
chaps,  xvii.-xxvii.  (especially  xxvi.  and  xxvii.),  and  John 
Ashton's  "Social  Life  in  the  Reign  of  Queen  Anne,"  2 
vols,  (especially  chaps,  xiv.,  xviii.,  and  xix.). 

Miscellaneous.  Other  works  that  may  be  helpful  to  one 
Avho  is  making  a  study  of  this  era — especially  to  teachers 
who  wish  to  have  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  subject  and 
to  suggest  topics  for  research  to  individual  pupils — are: 

"Old  and  New  London,"  by  Walter  Thornbury  and 
Edward  Walford  (Cassell),  H.  B.  Wheatley's  "London 
Past  and  Present  "  (more  like  an  encyclopa?dic  dictionary, 
but  valuable  for  reference),  Reyiiolds's  "  Shilling  Map  of 
London  "  (Reynolds:  174  Strand),  Hare's  "  Walks  in  Lon- 
don," John  Thomas  Smith's  "  Antiquarian  Ramble  in  the 
Streets  of  London,"  Malcolm's  "Manners  of  London," 
Timbs's  "  Curiosities  of  London,"  Baedeker's  "  London," 
AValter  Besant's  "London"  {Harper's  Magazine,  1892), 
Gay's  "Trivia,"  Prior's  "Town  and  Country  Mouse," 
Joseph  Spence's  "  Anecdotes,"  Phillips's  "  Addisoniana," 


xlviii   SUGGESTIONS  FOR  TEACHERS  AND  STUDENTS 

Nathan  Drake's  "Essays  on  the  Tatler,  Spectator,  and 
Guardian,''''  3  vols.,  Swift's  "  Journal  to  Stella,"  Hazlitt's 
lecture  "On  the  Periodical  Essayists,"  and  an  elegant 
edition  of  the  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  papers  with  illustra- 
tions by  Chas.  0.  Murray  (London,  Sampson  Low;  New 
York,  Appleton).  An  excellent  idea  of  social,  literary, 
and  political  conditions,  with  good  biographical  sketches 
of  the  principal  writers,  may  be  found  succinctly  stated 
in  "Welsh's  "  Development  of  English  Literature  and  Lan- 
guage," vol.  ii.,  chap.  ii. 


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SIR  ROGER   DE   COVERLET. 


THE   SPECTATOR. 
[^Spectator  No.  1.     Thiu-sdatj,  March  1.  1711.'     Addison.'] 

Non  fumum  ex  fulgore,  seel  ex  fiiino  dare  luecm 
Cogitat,  ut  speciosa  dehiiic  miracula  proinat.'- 

/^  IlOUACK. 

I  HAVE  observed  that  a  reader  seldom  2)eruses  a  book 
with  pleasure  till  he  knows  whether  the  Avriter  of  it  bo  a 
black  or  a  fair  man,  of  a  mild  or  choleric  disposition,  mar- 
ried or  a  bachelor,  with  other  particulars  of  the  like  nature 
that  conduce  very  much  to  the  right  understanding  of  an 
author.  To  gratify  this  curiosity,  which  is  so  natural  to  a 
reader,  I  design  this  paper  and  my  next  as  prefatory  dis- 
courses to  my  following  writings,  and  shall  give  some 
account  in  them  of  the  several  persons  that  are  engaged  in 

'  The  date  of  this  first  paper  was  March  1,  1711.  The  year  is  some- 
times written  1710-1711,  because  until  1753  England  considered  the 
legal  new  year  to  begin  on  March  25;  so  in  dates  previous  to  1753 
occurring  between  January  1  and  March  24  inclusive,  two  years  are 
often  given  the  first  being  old  style,  the  second  new  style.  But 
Addison  dated  this  simply  1711,  as  the  customary  year  in  England 
and  Ireland,  and  both  the  customary  and  legal  year  in  Scotland, 
dated  from  January  1.  In  Scotland  the  new  style  had  been  legal 
since  1600.  The  first  number  of  the  Spectator  was  called  by  Addi- 
son a  prefatory  discourse — a  term  which  he  extended  to  the  second 
number  also — and  forms  a  fitting  introduction  to  the  de  Coverley 
papers. 

*  See  Appendix. 


2  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET 

this  work.'  As  the  chief  trouble  of  compiling,  digesting, 
and  correcting  will  fall  to  my  share,  I  must  do  myself 
the  justice  to  open  the  work  with  my  own  history.  I  was 
born  to  a  small  hereditary  estate,^  which,  according  to  the 
tradition  of  the  village  where  it  lies,  was  bounded  by  the 
same  hedges  and  ditches  in  William  the  Conqueror's  time 
that  it  is  at  present,  and  has  been  delivered  down  from 
father  to  son  whole  and  entire,  without  the  loss  or  acquis!^ 
tion  of  a  single  field  or  meadoAV,  during  the  space  of  six 
hundred  years.  There  runs  a  story  in  the  family,  that  my 
mother  dreamt  that  she  was  brought  to  bed  of  a  judge: 
whether  this  might  proceed  from  a  lawsuit  which  wae  then 
depending  in  the  family,  or  ray  father's  being  a  justice  of 
the  peace,  I  c^not  determine;  for  I  am  not  so  vain  a«  to 
think  it  presaglpd  any  dignity  that  I  should  arrive  at  in  my 
future  life,  though  that  was  the  interi)retation  which  the 
neighborhood  pii^  upon  it.^  The  gravity  of  my  behavior 
at  my  very  first  appearance  in  the  world  seemed  to  favor 
my  mother's  dream;  for,  as  she  has  often  told  me,  I  threw 
away  my  rattle  before  I  was  two  months  old,  and  would 
not  make  use  of  my  coral  *  till  they  had  taken  away  the 
bells  from  it. 

As  for  the  rest  of  my  infancy,  there  being  nothing  in  it 
remarkable,^  I  shall  pass  it  over  in  silence.  I  find  that, 
during  my  nonage,^  I  had  the  reputation  of '^  a  very  sullen 

'  The  editing  of  the  daily  sheet  which  the  Spectator  Club  is  about 
to  issue.     See  the  concluding  paragraph  of  this  number. 

'  Of  course  this  ' '  history "  is  a  fictitious  one ;  but  as  you  read  it, 
note  whether  there  are  any  resemblances  to  what  you  know  of  Addi- 
son's history  and  personality.  See  the  Introduction  (Biography), 
Macaulay's  Essay  on  Addison,  and  Thackeray's  Eiiglish  Humorists. 
Also  consult  the  encyclopaedias  and  Vnographieal  dictionaries. 

*  Like  many  other'writers,  as,  for  instance,  Hawthorne  and  Irving, 
•while  denying  his  own  belief  in  some  theory,  the  author  contrives  to 
convince  the  reader  that  the  theory  may  be  true,  after  all. 

*  See  some  large  dictionary,  like  Webster's  International,  the 
Standard,  the  Century,  or  Murray's. 

*  What  does  this  imply  as  to  the  first  two  months?    See  note  3. 

*  See  the  dictionary. 

'  I.  e.,  ot  being;  or,  the  reputation  which  a  sullen  youth  would  gain. 


THE  SPECTATOR  3 

youth,  but  was  always  a  favorite  of  my  school -master,  who 
used  to  say  "  that  my  parts  were  solid  and  would  wear  well. " 
I  had  not  been  long  at  the  University  before  I  distinguished 
myself  by  a  most  profound  silence;  for  during  the  space  of 
eight  years,  excepting  in  the  pul>lic  exercises  of  the  college, 
I  scarce  uttered  the  quantity  of  an  hundred  words;  and  in- 
deed do  not  remember  that  I  ever  spoke  three  sentences 
together  in  my  whole  life.^  Whilst  I  was  in  this  learned 
body,  I  applied  myself  with  so  much  diligence  to  my 
studies  that  there  are  very  few  celebrated  books,  either  in 
the  learned  or  the  modern  tongues,  which  I  am  not  ac- 
quainted with. 

Upon  the  death  of  my  father,  I  was  resolved  to  travel  into 
foreign  countries,  and  tlierefore  left  the  University  with 
the  character  of  ^  an  odd,  unaccountable  fellow,  that  had  a 
great  deal  of  learning,  if  I  would  but  show  it.  An  insa- 
tiable thirst  after  knowledge  carried  me  into  all  the  coun- 
tries of  Europe  in  which  there  was  anything  new  or  strange 
to  be  seen;  nay,  to  such  a  degree  was  my  curiosity  raised, 
that  having  read  the  controversies  of  some  great  men  con- 
cerning the  antiquities  of  Egypt,  I  made  a  voyage  to  Grand 
Cairo,  on  purpose  to  take  the  measure  of  a  pyramid ;  and 
as  soon  as  I  had  set  myself  right  in  that  particular,  re- 
turned to  my  native  country  with  great  satisfaction.^ 

I  have  passed  my  latter  years  in  this  city,*  where  I  am 
frequently  seen  in  most  public  places,  though  there  are  not 
above  half  a  dozen  of  my  select  friends  that  know  me;  of 

'  Read  between  the  lines  of  this  humorous  hyperbole  and  you  will 
be  reminded  of  the  Gei-inan  proverb:  "Speech  is  silvern,  silence  is 
golden;  Speech  is  human,  silence  is  divine."  Sir  Walter  Scott  said: 
"  Silence  is  deep  as  eternity;  speech  is  shallow  as  time."  Contrast, 
also,  the  Spectator's  description  of  himself  with  Sydney  Smith's  witty 
description  of  Macaulay:  "  ^lacaulay  is  like  a  book  in  breeches.  He 
has  occasional  flashes  of  silence,  that  make  his  conversation  per- 
fectly delightful." 

"  Of.  with  "  the  reputation  of"  on  p.  2  and  note  7. 

'  A  satii'e  on  great  undertakings  with  small  returns.  How  deli- 
ciously  Addison  would  treat  of  our  Arctic  expeditions! 

*  London. 


SIB  ROGER  DE  COVERLET 

whom  my  next  paper  shall  give  a  more  particular  account. 
There  is  no  place  of  general  resort  wherein  I  do  not  often 
make  my  appearance;  sometimes  I  am  seen  thrusting  my 
head  into  a  round  of  politicians  at  Will's/  and  listening 
with  great  attention  to  the  narratives  that  are  made  in 
those  little  circular  audiences.  Sometimes  I  smoke  a  pi2:)e 
at  Child's/  and  whilst  I  seem  attentive  to  nothing  but  the 
Postman,^  overhear  the  conversation  of  every  table  in  the 
room.  I  appear  on  Sunday  nights  at  St.  James's  ^  coffee- 
house, and  sometimes  join  the  little  committee  of  poli- 
tics in  the  inner  room,  as  one  who  comes  there  to  hear  and 
improve.  My  face  is  likewise  very  well  known  at  the 
Grecian/  the  Cocoa  Tree/  and  in  the  theatres  both  of 
Drury  Lane  and  the  Hay  Market.  I  have  been  taken  for 
a  merchant  upon  the  Exchange  for  above  these  ten  years, 
and  sometimes  pass  for  a  Jew  in  the  assembly  of  stock- 
jobbers at  Jonathan's.^  In  short,  wherever  I  see  a  cluster 
of  people,  I  always  mix  with  them,  though  I  never  open 
my  lips  but  in  my  own  club. 

Thus  I  live  in  the  world  rather  as  a  Spectator  of  man- 
kind than  as  one  of  the  species;  by  which  means  I  have 
made  myself  a  speculative  statesman,  soldier,  merchant,  and 
artisan,  without  ever  meddling  with  any  practical^  part  in 
life.  I  am  very  well  versed  in  the  theory  of  an  husband  or 
a  father,  and  can  discern  the  errors  in  the  economy,  busi- 
ness, and  diversion  of  others  better  than  those  who  are 
engaged  in  them :  as  standers-by  discover  blots  *  which  are 

'  These  were  all  coffee-houses  (except  the  Cocoa  Tree,  which  was  a 
chocolate  house) — places  much  frequented  in  Addison's  time.  For 
full  description  see  notes  on  Spectator  No.  1,  in  Henry  Morley's 
edition  of  the  Spectator,  and  G.  W.  Greene's  edition  of  Addison's 
works.  See  also  Spectators  46.  49, 148,  197,  403,  476,  521,  Tatler  Xo. 
268,  and  read  chap.  iii.  in  Macaulay's  Hist,  of  England.  The 
Grecian,  in  Devereux  Court,  Strand,  was  one  of  tlie  first  coffee- 
houses in  London.  In  1652  an  English  Turkey  merchant  brought 
home  with  him  a  Greek  servant  who  first  opened  this  house  for 
making  and  selling  coffee  :  hence  the  name. 

*  A  penny  weekly  newspaper. 

'  Note  the  two  antithetical  words. 

*  A  term  used  in  backgamnion  wjieu  a  single  man  is  left  exposed. 


\THE  SPECTATOR    W  5 


iJ-jW- 


) 


apt  to  escape  those  wlio  are  in  tlic  game.  I  never  esponsed 
any  party  with  violence,  and  am  resolved  to  observe  an  ex- 
act neutrality  between  the  Whigs  and  Tories,^  unless  I  shall 
be  forced  to  declare  myself  by  the  hostilities  of  either  side. 
In  short,  I  have  acted  in  all  tlie  ])arts  of  my  life  as  a  looker- 
on,  which  is  the  character  I  intend  to  preserve  in  this  paper. 

I  have  given  the  reader  just  so  mucli  of  my  history  and 
character  as  to  let  him  see  I  am  not  altogether  unqualified 
for  the  business  I  have  undertaken.  As  for  other  particu- 
lars in  my  life  and  adventures,  I  shall  insei't  them  in  fol- 
lowing papers  as  I  shall  see  occasion.  In  the  mean  time, 
when  I  consider  how  much  I  have  seen,  read,  and  heard, 
I  begin  to  blame  my  own  taciturnity:  and  since  I  have 
neither  time  nor  inclination  to  communicate  the  fulness 
of  my  heart  in  speech,  I  am  resolved  to  do  it  in  writing, 
and  to  print  myself  out,  if  possible,  before  I  die.  I  have 
been  often  told  by  my  friends  that  it  is  pity  so  many  use- 
ful discoveries  which  I  have  made,  should  be  in  tlie  posses- 
sion of  a  silent  man.  For  this  reason,  therefore,  I  shall 
publish  a  sheetful  of  thoughts  every  morning  for  the 
benefit  of  my  contemporaries;  and  if  I  can  any  way  contrib- 
ute to  the  diversion  or  improvement  of  the  country  in 
which  I  live,  I  shall  leave  it,  when  I  am  summoned  out  of 
it,  with  the  secret  satisfaction  of  thinking  that  I  have  not 
lived  in  vain. 

There  are  three  very  material  points  which  I  have  not 
spoken  to  ^  in  this  paper,  and  which,  for  several  imj^ortant 
reasons,  I  must  keep  to  myself,  at  least  for  some  time :  I 
mean,  an  account  of  my  name,  my  age,  and  my  lodgings. 
I  must  confess,  I  would  gratify  my  reader  in  anything  that 
is  rea^nable;  but,  as  for  these  three  particulars,  though  I 
am  sensible  they  might  tend  very  much  to  the  embellish- 
ment of  my  paper,  I  cannot  yet  come  to  a  resolution  of 

'  To  which  party  did  Addison  belong?  A  good  brief  description 
of  these  parties  is  given  in  Gardiner's  StudenVs  Ilistory  of  England, 
chap,  xliii.,  §  14. 

'  This  is  idiomatic  EngHsh.  One  may  speah  to  x  point  or  speak  to 
THE  point. 


6  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEV 

communicating  them  to  the  public.  They  would  indeed 
draw  me  out  of  that  obscurity  which  I  have  enjoyed  for 
many  years,  and  expose  me  in  public  places  to  several 
salutes  and  civilities  which  have  been  always  very  dis- 
agreeable to  me;  for  the  greatest  pain  I  can  suffer  is  the 
being  talked  to  and  being  stared  at.  It  is  for  this  reason, 
likewise,  that  I  keep  my  complexion  and  dress  as  very  great 
secrets:  though  it  is  not  impossible  but  I  may  make 
discoveries  of  both  in  the  progi-ess  of  the  work  I  have 
undertaken. 

After  having  been  thus  particular  upon  m3'self,  I  shall 
in  to-morrow's  paper  give  an  account  of  those  gentlemen 
who  are  concerned  with  me  in  this  work;  for,  as  I  have 
before  intimated,^  a  plan  of  it  is  laid  and  concerted  (as  all 
other  matters  of  importance  are)  in  a  club.  However,  as 
my  friends  have  engaged  me  to  stand  in  the  front,  those 
who  have  a  mind  to  correspond  with  me  may  direct  their 
letters  to  the  Spectatok,  at  Mr.  Buckley's  in  Little 
Britain. 2  For  I  must  further  acquaint  the  reader  that, 
though  our  club  meets  only  on  Tuesdays  and  Thursdays, 
we  have  appointed  a  committee  to  sit  every  night,  for  the 
inspection  of  all  such  papers  as  may  contribute  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  the  public  weal. 

'  See  note  1,  p.  2. 

"  A  short  street  near  the  present  Smithfield  market. 

^  Addison  took  as  a  keyword  CLIO  (the  name  of  the  IMuse  of  His- 
tory), and  signed  one  of  those  letters  to  all  papers  written  by  him. 
Steele  signed  his  contributions  either  R  or  T.  Morley  stigmatizes  as 
baseless  "a  suggestion  of  Dr.  Calder's,  which  has  been  copied  and 
recopied,  that  when  Addison  signed  C  he  wrote  at  Chelsea,  wlien  L 
in  London,  when  I  in  Ireland,  and  when  0  at  the  office.  This  notion 
was  invented  to  dispose  of  an  idea  that  there  was  vanity  in  taking 
the  name  of  a  Muse  as  a  word  from  which  to  get  the  four  letters  used 
to  abate  the  reader's  over-certainty  as  to  the  authorship  of  papers. 
If  Addison  had  wanted  ten  letters  instead  of  four  he  might  have  had 
Bucephalus  for  a  keyword,  and  then  perhaps  some  editor  would  have 
thought  it  requisite  to  find  a  way  of  proving  that  he  had  not  actually 
mistaken  himself  for  a  horse." 

There  is  a  humorous  explanation  of  the  "Capital  Letters  which  are 
placed  at  the  End  "  in  Spectator  No.  231,  which  no  one  should  fail  to 
read. 


THE  CLUB 


11. 


THE    CLUB. 

[Spectator  No.  2.     Friday,  March  2,  1711.     Steele.} 

Ast  alii  sex, 

Et  plures,  iino  conclamant  ore . 

JUVEXAL. 

The  first  of  our  society  is  a  gentleman  of  "Worcester- 
shire, of  ancient  descent,  a  baronet,  his  name  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverley.  His  great-grandfather  was  inventor  of  that 
famous  country-dance  which  is  called  after  him.'  All  who 
know  that  shire  ^  are  very  well  acquainted  with  the  parts 
and  merits  of  Sir  Roger.  He  is  a  gentleman  that  is  very 
singular  in  his  behavior,  but  his  singularities  proceed  from 
his  good  sense,  and  are  contradictions  to  the  manners  of 
the  world  only  as  he  thinks  the  Avorld  is  in  the  wrong. 
However,  this  humor  creates  him  no  enemies,  for  he  does 
nothing  with  sourness  or  obstinacy;  and  his  being  uncon- 
fined  to  modes  and  forms,  makes  him  but  the  readier 
and  more  capable  to  please  and  oblige  all  who  know  him. 
When  he  is  in  town,  he  lives  in  Soho  Square.^  It  is  said 
he  keeps  himself  a  bachelor  by  reason  he  was  crossed  in 
love  by  a  perverse,  beautiful  widow  of  the  next  county 
to  him.      Before  this  disappointment,  Sir  Roger  was  what 

'  The  tune  was  called  "  Roger  a  Calverley  "  at  first  and  was  named 
after  a  knight  of  the  time  of  Richard  I.  To  show  the  popularity  of 
the  tune  at  country-dances  when  Addison  wrote,  G.  W.  Greene 
quotes  from  a  work  published  in  1715  :  "Upon  the  preludes  being 
ended,  each  party  fell  to  bawling  and  calling  for  particular  tunes. 
The  hobnailed  fellows,  whose  breeches  and  lungs  seemed  to  be  of 
the  same  leather,  cried  out  for  '  Cheshire  Round.'  '  Roger  of  Cover- 
ley,'  'Joan's  Placket,'  and  '  Northern  Nancy.'  "  Swift  suggested  the 
adaptation  of  the  name  to  the  knight  of  the  Spectator  Club. 

'  Does  this  mean  the  same  as  county  ?    See  dictionary. 

*  At  that  time  a  very  fashionable  quarter. 


8  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

yon  call  a  fine  gentleman,  had  often  supped  with  my  Lord 
Rochester^  and  Sir  George  Etherege/  fought  a  duel  upon  his 
first  coming  to  town,  and  kicked  Bully  Dawson  ^  in  a  pub- 
lic coffee-house  for  calling  him  "youngster."  But  be- 
ing ill-used  by  the  above-mentioned  widow,  he  was  very 
serious  for  a  year  and  a  half;  and  though,  his  temper  being 
naturally  jovial,  he  at  last  got  over  it,  he  grew  careless  of 
himself,  and  never  dressed  afterwards,  lie  continues  to 
wear  a  coat  and  doublet  of  the  same  cut  that  were  in  fash- 
ion at  the  time  of  his  repulse,  which,  in  his  merry  humors, 
he  tells  us,  has  been  in  ^  and  out  twelve  times  since  he  first 
wore  it.  'Tis  said  Sir  Eoger  grew  humble  in  his  desires 
after  he  had  forgot  this  cruel  beauty;  but  this  is  looked 
upon  by  his  friends  rather  as  matter  of  raillery  than  truth. 
He  is  now  in  his  fifty-sixth  year,  cheerful,  gay,  and  hearty; 
keeps  a  good  house  in  both  town  and  country;  a  great  lover 
of  mankind;  but  there  is  such  a  mirthful  cast  in  his  be- 
havior that  he  is  rather  beloved  than  esteemed.^  His  tenants 
grow  rich,  his  servants  look  satisfied,  all  the  young  women 
profess  love  to  him,  and  the  young  men  are  glad  of  his 
company;  when  he  comes  into  a  house  he  calls  the  servants 
by  their  names,  and  talks  all  the  way  up  stairs  to  a  visit.  I 
must  not  omit  that  Sir  Roger  is  a  justice  of  the  quorum;^ 
that  he   fills  the   chair  at  a  quarter-session^  with  great 

'Both  "fine  gentlemen"  who  lived  fast  lives.  The  first  was  a 
favorite  of  Charles  II.  He  died  at  thirty-one,  confessing  to  Bishop 
Burnet  that  he  had  "for  five  years  been  continually  drunk."  The 
second  was  a  witty  writer  of  some  ability  (Spec.  No.  51),  but  he  fell 
down  stall's  while  intoxicated  and  broke  his  neck.  Perliaps  it  was 
well  that  Sir  Roger  became  "  very  serious  for  a  year  and  a  half,"  as 
stated  below. 

*  A  noted  sharper  and  debauchee. 
^  I.e.,  in  fashion. 

*  Could  this  sentence  (from  the  last  period)  be  recast  to  advantage  ? 

*  The  commission  formerly  issued  to  justices  of  the  peace,  in  Eng- 
land, contained  a  clause  beginning,  Quorum  aliquem  vestrttm  unum 
esse  volumus ;  hence  magistrates  acting  under  this  commission  were 
called  '^justices  of  the  quorum." 

*  A  general  court  of  criminal  jurisdiction  held  quarterly  by  the 
justices  of  peace  in  different  counties. 


THE  CLUB  9 

abilities;  and,  three  months  af^^o,  gained  universal  applause 
by  explaining  a  passage  in  the  Game  Act.' 

The  gentleman  next  in  esteem  and  authority  among  us 
is  another  bachelor,  who  is  a  member  of  the  Inner  Temple;  ^ 
a  man  of  great  probity,  wit,  and  understanding;  but  he 
has  chosen  his  place  of  residence  rather  to  obey  the  direc- 
tion of  an  old  humorsome  father,  than  in  pursuit  of  his 
own  inclinations.  He  was  placed  there  to  study  the  laws 
of  the  land,  and  is  the  most  learned  of  any  of  the  house 
in  those  of  the  stage.  Aristotle  ■'  and  Longinus  ^  are  much 
better  understood  by  him  than  Littleton  ^  or  Coke.^  The 
father  sends  up,  every  post,  questions  relating  to  mar- 
riage-articles, leases,  and  tenures,  in  the  neighborhood; 
all  which  questions  he  agrees  with  an  attorney  to  answer 
and  take  care  of  in  the  lump.  He  is  studying  the  passions 
themselves,  when  he  should  be  inquiring  into  the  debates, 
among  men,  which  arise  from  them.  He  kiiows  the  argu- 
ment of  each  of  the  orations  of  Demosthenes^  and  TuUy'', 
but  not  one  case  in  the  reports  of  our  own  courts,  Xo 
one  ever  took  him  for  a  fool,  but  none,  except  his  intimate 
friends,  know  he  has  a  great  deal  of  wit.  This  turn  makes 
him  at  once  both  disinterested  and  agreeable;  as  few  of  his 
thoughts  are  drawn  from  business,  they  are  most  of  them 
fit  for  conversation.^  His  taste  of  books  is  a  little  too  just 
for  the  age  he  lives  in;  he  has  read  all,  but  approves  of 
very  few.      His  familiarity  with  the  customs,    manners, 

'  Explain  the  humor  and  note  the  mild  sarcasm. 

'  There  are  four  societies  in  London  which  have  the  sole  right  of 
calling  persons  to  the  Englisli  bar — the  Inner  Temple,  tlio  Middle 
Temple,  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  Gray's  Inn.  The  Inner  and  Middle  Tem- 
ples are  the  two  Inns  of  Court  which  occupy  two  ranges  of  build- 
ings on  the  site  of  a  former  establishment  of  tlie  Knights  Templars, 
called  the  Temple. 

*  Two  famous  Greek  philosophers.     See  a  classical  dictionary. 

*  Two  celebrated  English  judges,  both  members  of  the  Inner  Tem- 

{)le.     Coke's  Commentary  upon  Littleton's   Tenures  is  a  standard 
egal  text- book. 

*  The  most  illlustrious  orators  of  Greece  and  Rome.  What  name 
is  commonly  used  in  place  of  Tully  nowadays  ? 

'  He  does  not  "  talk  shoo." 


10  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVE  RLE  Y 

actions,  and  writings  of  the  ancients  makes  him  a  very 
delicate  observer  of  what  occurs  to  hira  in  the  present 
world.  He  is  an  excellent  critic,  and  the  time  of  the 
play^  is  his  hour  of  business  ;2  exactly  at  five  he  passes 
through  New  Inn,  crosses  through  Russell  Court,  and 
takes  a  turn  at  Will's  till  the  play  begins;  he  has  his 
shoes  rubbed  and  his  periwig  powdered  at  the  barber's  as 
you  go  into  the  Rose.^  It  is  for  the  good  of  the  audience 
when  he  is  at  a  play,  for  the  actors  have  an  ambition  to 
please  him. 

The  person  of  next  consideration  is  Sir  Andrew  Free- 
port,*  a  merchant  of  great  eminence  in  the  city  of  London, 
a  person  of  indefatigable  industry,  strong  reason,  and  great 
experience.  His  notions  of  trade  are  noble  and  generous, 
and  (as  every  rich  man  has  usually  some  sly  way  of  jesting 
which  would  make  no  great  figure  were  he  not  a  rich 
man)  5  he  calls  the  sea  the  British  Common.  He  is  ac- 
quainted with  commerce  in  all  its  parts,  and  will  tell  you 
that  it  is  a  stupid  and  barbarous  way  to  extend  dominion  by 
arms;  for  true  power  is  to  be  got  by  arts  and  industry.  He 
will  often  argue  that  if  this  part  of  our  trade  were  well  cul- 
tivated, we  should  gain  from  one  nation;  and  if  another, 
from  another.  I  have  heard  him  prove  that  diligence 
makes  more  lasting  acquisitions  than  valor,  and  that  sloth 
has  ruined  more  nations  than  the  sword.  He  abounds  in 
several  frugal  maxims,  amongst  which  the  greatest  favorite 
is,  "A  penny  saved  is  a  penny  got."  A  general  trader  of 
good  sense  is  pleasanter  company  than  a  general  scholar;^ 
and  Sir  Andrew  having  a  natural  unaffected   eloquence, 

'  It  was  the  custom  then  to  dine  before  noon,  and  the  play  began 
in  the  afternoon.  A  flag  was  raised,  which  floated  over  the  theatro 
wliile  the  performance  continued. 

^  Note  the  antithesis. 

*  A  tavern  near  Drury  Lane  Theatre. 

*  Is  there  any  significance  in  this  name  ?  See  if  any  other  mem- 
bers of  the  club  have  names  equally  ai)propriate. 

*  Is  this  a  satire  upon  the  jester  or  upon  those  who  laugh  at  his 
jests  ? 

*  Is  this  false  or  true;  and  why? 


THE  CLUB  11 

tlie  perspicuity  of  liis  discourse  gives  tlie  same  pleasure 
that  wit  would  in  another  man.  He  has  made  his  fortunes 
himself,  and  says  that  England  may  be  richer  than  other 
kingdoms  by  as  plain  methods  as  he  himself  is  richer  than 
other  men;  though^  at  the  same  time  I  can  say  this  of 
him,  that  there  is  not  a  point  in  the  compass  but  blows 
home  a  ship  in  which  he  is  an  owner. 

Next  to  Sir  Andrew  in  the  club-room  sits  Captain  Sentry, 
a  gentleman  of  great  courage,  good  understanding,  but  in- 
vincible modesty.  He  is  one  of  those  that  deserve  very  well, 
but  are  very  awkward  at  putting  their  talents  within  the 
observation  of  such  as  should  take  notice  of  them.  He 
was  some  years  a  captain,  and  behaved  himself  Avith  great 
gallantry  in  several  engagements  and  at  several  sieges;  but 
having  a  small  estate  of  his  own,  and  being  next  heir  to 
Sir  Koger,  he  has  quitted  a  w-ay  of  life  in  which  no  man 
can  rise  suitably  to  his  merit  who  is  not  something  of  a 
courtier  as  well  as  a  soldier.  ( I  have  heard  him  often  lament 
that  in  a  profession  where  merit  is  placed  in  so  conspicu- 
ous a  view,  impudence  should  get  the  better  of  modesty. 
When  he  has  talked  to  this  purpose  I  never  heard  him 
make  a  sour  expression,  but  frankly  confess  that  he  left 
the  world  because  he  was  not  fit  for  it.  A  strict  honesty 
and  an  even,  regular  behavior  are  in  themselves  obstacles 
to  him  that  must  press  through  crowds  who  endeavor  at 
the  same  end  with  himself, — the  favor  of  a  commander. 
He  will,  however,  in  this  Avay  of  talk,  excuse  generals  for 
not  disposing  according  to  men's  desert,  or  inquiring  into 
it,  "For,"  says  he,  "that  great  man  who  has  a  mind  to 
help  me,  has  as  many  to  break  through  to  come  at  me  as  I 
have  to  come  at  him  ";  therefore  he  will  conclude  that  the 
man  who  would  make  a  figure,^  especially  in  a  military  way, 
must  get  over  all  false  modesty,  and  assist  his  patron  against 
£he  importunity  of  other  pretenders  by  a  proper  assurance  in 
his  own  vindication.     He  says  it  is  a  civil  cowardice  to  be 

'  What  does  this  word  imply?  *  Secure  promotion. 


13  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

backward  in  asserting  what  you  ought  to  expect,  as  it  is  a 
military  fear  to  be  slow  in  attacking  M'hen  it  is  your  duty. 
With  this  candor  does  the  gentleman  speak  of  himself  and 
others.  The  same  frankness  runs  through  all  his  conver- 
sation. The  military  part  of  his  life  has  furnished  him 
with  many  adventures,  in  the  relation  of  which  he  is  very 
agreeable  to  the  company;  for  he  is  never  overbearing, 
though  accustomed  to  command  men  in  the  utmost  degree 
below  him;  nor  ever  too  obsequious  from  an  habit  of  obey- 
ing men  highly  above  him. 

But  that  our  society  may  not  appear  a  set  of  humorists 
unacquainted  with  the  gallantries  and  pleasures  of  the  age, 
we  have  among  us  the  gallant  Will  Honeycomb,  a  gentle- 
man who,  according  to  his  years,  should  be  in  the  decline 
of  his  life,  but  having  ever  been  very  careful  of  his  person, 
and  always  had  ^  a  very  easy  fortune,  time  has  made  but 
very  little  impression  either  by  wrinkles  on  his  forehead  or 
traces  in  his  brain.  His  person  is  well  turned  and  of  a  good 
height.  He  is  very  ready  at  that  sort  of  discourse  with 
which  men  usually  entertain  women.  He  has  all  his  life 
dressed  very  well,  and  remembers  habits  ^  as  others  do  men. 
He  can  smile  when  one  speaks  to  him,  and  laughs  easily. 
He  knows  the  history  of  every  mode,^  and  can  inform  you 
from  which  of  the  French  king's  wenches  our  wives  and 
daughters  had  this  manner  of  curling  their  hair,  that  way  of 
placing  their  hoods;  whose  frailty  was  covered  by  such  a 
sort  of  petticoat,  and  Avhose  vanity  to  show  her  foot  made 
that  part  of  the  dress  so  short  in  such  a  year.  In  a  word, 
all  his  conversation  and  knowledge  has  been  in  the  female 
world.  As  other  men  of  his  age  will  take  notice  to  you  •* 
what  such  a  minister  said  upon  such  and  such  an  occasion, 
he  will  tell  you  when  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  ^  danced  at 

'  Note  the  anacoluthon  here.  Recast  the  sentence  after  hut  in  the 
preceding  line.  "Styles  of  dress.  '  Fashion. 

*  What  would  be  a  more  modern  expression? 

'  For  an  intercstinc:  account  of  Monmouth  and  his  rebellion,  read 
A.  Conan  Duvlc's  Micah  Clarke. 


THE  CLUB  13 

court  such  a  woman  was  then  smitten,  another  Avas  taken 
with  him  at  the  head  of  his  troo])  in  the  Park.  In  all  these 
important  relations,  he  has  ever  about  the  same  time  re- 
ceived a  kind  glance  or  a  blow  of  a  fan  from  some  cele- 
brated beauty,  mother  of  the  present  Lord  Such-a-one.  If 
you  speak  of  a  young  commoner  that  said  a  lively  thing  in 
the  House,  he  starts  up:  "  lie  has  good  blood  in  his  veins; 
Tom  Mirabell,  the  rogue,  cheated  me  in  that  affair;  that 
young  fellow's  mother  used  me  more  like  a  dog  than  any 
woman  I  ever  made  advances  to."  This  way  of  talking 
of  his  very  much  enlivens  the  conversation  among  us  of 
a  more  sedate  turn;  and  I  find  there  is  not  one  of  the 
company  but  myself,  who  rarely  speak  at  all,  but  speaks 
of  him  as  of  that  sort  of  man  who  is  usually  called  ^ 
a  well-bred,  fine  gentleman.  To  conclude  his  character, 
where  women  are  not  concerned  he  is  an  honest,  worthy 
man. 

I  cannot  tell  whether  I  am  to  account  him  whom  I  am 
next  to  speak  of  as  one  of  our  company,  for  he  visits  us 
but  seldom;  but  when  he  does,  it  adds  to  every  man  else 
a  new  enjoyment  of  himself.  He  is  a  clergyman,  a  very 
pliilosophic  man,  of  general  learning,  great  sanctity  of  life, 
and  the  most  exact  good  breeding.  He  has  the  misfortune 
to  be  of  a  very  weak  constitution,  and  consequently  cannot 
accept  of  such  cares  and  business  as  preferments  in  his 
function  would  oblige  him  to;  he  is  therefore  among  di- 
vines what  a  chamber-counsellor  is  among  lawyers.  The 
probity  of  his  mind  and  the  integrity  of  his  life  create  him 
followers,  as  being  eloquent  or  loud  advances  others.  He 
seldom  introduces  the  subject  he  speaks  upon ;  but  we  are 
so  far  gone  in  years  that  he  observes,  when  he  is  among 
us,  an  earnestness  to  have  him  fall  on  some  divine  topic, 
Avhich  he  always  treats  with  much  authority,  as  one  who 
has  no  interests  in  this  world,  as  one  who  is  hastening 
to  the  object  of  all  his  wishes,  and  conceives  hope  from 

*  What  does  our  modern  epithet  "  so-called"  imply? 


14  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

his  decays  and  infirmities.     These  are  my  ordinary  com- 
panions.^       / 

'  Some  people  imagine  that  an  author  can  never  draw  a  character 
without  having  a  live  model.  The  fact  is,  he  usually  has  a  dozen, 
makes  a  composite  photograph,  so  to  speak,  and  then  colors  it  to 
suit  his  fancy.  The  originals  of  several  of  the  club  have  often  been 
pointed  out,  but  it  is  not  probable  that  they  resembled  the  characters 
any  more  than  Addison  resembled  the  Spectator.  Sir  John  Pack- 
ington  of  Worcestershire  has  been  called  the  prototype  of  Sir  Koger, 
Col.  Kempenfeldt — the  father  of  the  Admiral  immortalized  by  Cow- 
per's  poem,  the  Loss  of  the  Royal  George — of  Captain  Sentry,  and 
Col.  Cleland,  of  the  Life  Guards,  of  Will  Honeycomb.  But  a  can- 
did reading  of  Spectators  34  and  262  will  show  the  falsity  of  such 
surmises. 

'  See  note  3,  p.  6. 


SIE  ROGERS  PHILOSOPHY  I5 

III. 

SIR   ROGER'S   PHILOSOPHY. 

[Spectator  No.  6,   Wednesday,  Marc/i  7,  1711.     Steele.] 

Credebant  hoc  grande  nefas,  et  morte  piandum, 
Si  juvenis  vetiilo  non  assurrexerat . 

JUVEXAL. 

I  KNOW  no  evil  under  the  snn  so  great  as  tlie  abuse 
of  the  understanding,  and  yet  there  is  no  one  vice  more 
common.  It  has  diffused  itself  through  both  sexes  and 
all  qualities  of  mankind,  and  there  is  hardly  that  person  to 
be  found  who  is  not  more  concerned  for  the  reputation  of  ^ 
wit  and  sense,  than  honesty  and  virtue.  But  this  unhappy 
affectation  of  being  wise  rather  than  honest,  Avitty  than 
good-natured,  is  the  source  of  most  of  the  ill  habits  of  life. 
Such  false  impressions  are  owing  to  the  abandoned  writ- 
ings of  men  of  wit,  and  the  awkward  imitation  of  the  rest 
of  mankind. 

For  this  reason.  Sir  Roger  was  saying  last  night  "that 
he  was  of  opinion  that  none  but  men  of  fine  parts  de- 
serve to  be  hanged.  The  reflections  of  such  men  are  so 
delicate  upon  all  occurrences  which  they  are  concerned  in, 
that  they  should  be  exposed  to  more  than  ordinary  infamy 
and  punishment  for  offending  against  such  quick  admoni- 
tions as  their  own  souls  give  them,  and  blunting  the  fine 
edge  of  their  minds  in  such  a  manner  that  they  are  no 
more  shocked  at  vice  and  folly  than  men  of  slower  capaci- 
ties. There  is  no  greater  monster  in  being,  than  a  very  ill 
man  of  great  parts.  He  lives  like  a  man  in  a  palsy,  with 
one  side  of  him  dead.  "While  perhaj^s  he  enjoys  the  sat- 
isfaction of  luxury,  of  wealth,  of  ambition,  he  has  lost 
the  taste  of  good-will,  of  friendship,  of  innocence.     Scare- 

*  I.  e.,  of  having.    Cf.  note  7,  p.  2. 


16  SIR  ROGER  DE  CdYERLEY 

crow,  the  beggar  in  Lincoln's-Inn-Fields,  who  disabled  him- 
self in  his  right  leg  and  asks  alms  all  day  to  get  himself  a 
warm  supper  at  night,  is  not  half  so  despicable  a  wretch 
as  sucli  a  man  of  sense.  The  beggar  has  no  relish  above 
sensations;  he  finds  rest  more  agreeable  than  motion,  and 
while  he  has  a  Avarm  fire,  never  reflects  that  he  deserves  to 
be  whipped. 

''Every  man  avIio  terminates  his  satisfaction  and  enjoy- 
ments within  the  supply  of  his  own  necessities  and  pas- 
sions, is,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "  in  my  eye,  as  poor  a  rogue  as 
Scarecrow.  But,"  continued  he,  "for  the  loss  of  public 
and  private  virtue  we  are  beholden  to  your  men  of  fine 
parts,  forsooth;  it  is  with  them  no  matter  what  is  done,  so 
it  is  done  with  an  air.^  But  to  me,  who  am  so  whimsical 
in  a  corrupt  age  as  to  act  according  to  nature  and  reason, 
a  selfish  man  in  the  most  shining  circumstance  and  equi- 
page,^  appears  in  the  same  condition  with  the  fellow  above- 
mentioned,  but  more  contemptible  in  proportion  to  what 
more  he  robs  the  public  of  and  enjoys  above  him.^  I  lay 
it  down  therefore  for  a  rule,  that  the  whole  man  is  to* 
move  together;  that  every  action  of  any  importance  is  to* 
liave  a  prospect  of  public  good;  and  that  the  general  ten- 
dency of  our  indifferent  actions  ought  to  be  agreeable  to 
the  dictates  of  reason,  of  religion,  of  good-breeding:  with- 
out this,  a  man,  as  I  have  before  hinted,  is  hopping  instead 
of  walking;  he  is  not  in  his  entire  and  proper  motion." 

While  the  honest  knight  was  thus  bewildering  himself  in 
good  starts,^  I  looked  intentively  ^  upon  him,  which  made 
him,  I  thought,  collect  his  mind  a  little.  "  "What  I  aim 
at,"  says  he,   '"is  to  represent  that  I  am  of  opinion,  to 

*  With  style.     '  Amid  the  most  brilliant  surroundings. 

*  The  "  fellow  above-mentioned."    *  Ought  to. 

'  A  hunting  term  humorously  applied  to  the  utterances  of  the 
knight,  who  was  a  famous  fox-hunter.     Thus  Shakespeare  says  : 

"  I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips 
Straining  upwn  the  start.'''' 

See,  also,  note  2,  p.  124.  'Attentively. 


sm  lioGEirs  piiiLosoPHr  17 

polish  our  understandings  and  neglect  onv  manners  is  of 
all  things  the  most  inexcusable.  lieason  should  govern 
passion,  but  instead  of  that,  you  see,  it  is  often  subservient 
to  it;  and  as^  unaccountable  as  one  would  think  it,  a  wise 
man  is  not  always  a  good  man." 

This  degeneracy  is  not  only  the  guilt  of  particular  per- 
sons, but  also  at  some  times  of  a  whole  people;  and  perhaps 
it  may  appear  upon  examination  that  the  most  polite  ages 
are  the  least  virtuous.  This  may  be  attributed  to  the  folly 
of  admitting  wit  and  learning  as  merit  in  themselves,  with- 
out considering  tlie  application  of  them.  By  this  moans  it 
becomes  a  rule  not  so  much  to  regard  what  we  do,  as  how 
we  do  it.  But  this  false  beauty  will  not  pass  upon  ^  men 
of  honest  minds  and  true  taste.  Sir  Kieluird  Blackmore'' 
says,  with  as  much  good  sense  as  virtue,  "It  is  a  mighty 
dishonor  and  shame  to  employ  excellent  faculties  and 
abundance  of  wit,  to  humor  and  please  men  in  their  vices 
and  follies.  The  great  enemy  of  mankind,  notwithstand- 
ing his  wit  and  angelic  faculties,  is  the  most  odious  being 
in  the  whole  creation."  lie  goes  on  soon  after  to  say,  very 
generously,  that  he  undertook  the  writing  of  his  poem  "  to 
rescue  the  Muses,  to  restore  them  to  their  sweet  and  chaste 
mansions,  and  to  engage  them  in  an  em])loyment  suitable 
to  their  dignity."  This  certainly  ought  to  be  the  purpose 
of  every  man  who  appears  in  public,  and  whoever  does  not 
proceed  upon  that  foundation,  injures  his  country  as  fast 
as  he  succeeds  in  his  studies.  When  modesty  ceases  to  be 
the  chief  armament  of  one  sex  and  integrity  of  the  other, 
society  is  upon  a  wrong  basis,  and  we  shall  be  ever  after 
without  rules  to  guide  our   judgment  in  what  is  really 

'  Omit  "as"  and  the  meaning  is  clearer. 

"  With. 

'  A  somewhat  tedious  writer  of  tlie  time.  He  was  about  to  pub- 
lish a  poem  (Creation)  from  which  Steele  condenses  the  following 
sentiments.  The  poem  aimed  to  refute  the  theories  of  Epicurus  and 
Lucretius  and  to  prove  the  existence  of  God  ;  a  long  preface  was 
directed  against  the  atheism  and  licentiousness  which  succeeded  the 
Restoration. 


18  SIR  ROGER  I)E  COVERLEY 

becoming  and  ornamental.  Nature  and  reason  direct  one 
thing,  passion  and  humor  another.  To  follow  the  dictates 
of  these  two  latter,  is  going  into  a  road  that  is  both  end- 
less and  intricate;  when  we  pursue  the  other,  our  passage 
is  delightful,  and  what  we  aim  at  easily  attainable. 

I  do  not  doubt  but  England  is  at  present  as  polite  a  nation 
as  any  in  the  world ;  but  any  man  who  thinks,  can  easily  see 
that  the  affectation  of  being  gay  and  in  fashion  lias  very 
near  ^  eaten  up  our  good  sense  and  our  religion.  Is  there 
anything  so  just,  as  that  mode  and  gallantry  ^  should  be 
built  upon  exerting  ourselves  in  what  is  proper  and  agree- 
able to  the  institutions  of  justice  and  piety  among  us? 
And  yet  is  there  anything  more  common,  than  that  we  run 
in  perfect  contradiction  to  them  ?  All  which  is  supported 
by  no  other  pretension  than  that  it  is  done  with  what  we 
call  a  good  grace. 

Nothing  ought  to  be  held  laudable,  or  becoming,  but 
what  nature  itself  should  prompt  us  to  think  so.  Respect 
to  all  kind  of  superiors  is  founded,  methinks,  upon  in- 
stinct; and  yet  what  is  so  ridiculous^  as  age?  I  make 
this  abrupt  transition  to  the  mention  of  this  vicc^  more 
than  any  other,  in  order  to  introduce  a  little  story,  which  I 
think  a  pretty  instance  ^  that  the  most  polite  age  is  ia 
danger  of  being  the  most  vicious. 

It  happened  at  Athens,  during  a  public  representation 
of  some  play  exhibited  in  honor  of  the  commonwealth, 
that  an  old  gentleman  came  too  late  for  a  place  suitable  to 
his  age  and  quality.  ^lany  of  the  young  gentlemen  who 
observed  the  difficulty  and  confusion  he  Avas  in,  made  signs 
to  him  that  they  would  accommodate  him  if  he  came 
where  they  sat.  The  good  man  bustled  through  the  crowd 
accordingly;  but  when  he  came  to  the  seats  to  which  he 
was  invited,  the  jest  was  to  sit  close  and  expose  him,  as  he 
stood  out  of  countenance,^  to  the  whole  audience.      The 

*  Nearly.  '  Fashion  and  politeness. 

*  At  present.      *  Disrespect  for  age.  '  A  good  illustration. 
'  Embarrassed. 


SIR  ROGER'S  PHILOSOPHY  19 

frolic  went  round  all  the  Athenian  benches.  But  on  those 
occasions  there  were  also  particular  places  assigned  for  for- 
eigners. When  the  good  man  skulked  towards  the  boxes 
appointed  for  the  Lacedemonians,  that  honest  people,  more 
virtuous  than  polite,  rose  up  all  ^  to  a  man,  and  with  the 
greatest  respect  received  him  among  them.  The  Athenians 
being  suddenly  touched  with  a  sense  of  the  Spartan  virtue 
and  their  own  degeneracy,  gave  a  thunder  of  applause; 
and  the  old  man  cried  out,  "  The  Athenians  understand 
what  is  good,  but  the  Lacedemonians  i)ractise  it." 

K. 

'  All  rose  up. 


20  i^IIi  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 


IV. 


SIB   ROGER    AND   THE    CLUB    MAKE    CONCESSIONS    TO   THE 
SPECTATOR. 

[Spectator  No.  Zi.     Mojiday,  April  9,  1711.     Addison.] 

Pareit 

Coguatis  raaeulis  similis  fera . 

JlTVEXAL. 

The  club  of  which  I  am  a  member  is  very  luckily  com- 
posed of  such  persons  as  are  engaged  iu  diilerent  ways  of 
life,  and  deputed  as  it  were  out  of  the  most  conspicuous 
classes  of  mankind.  By  this  means  I  am  furnished  with 
the  greatest  variety  of  hints  and  materials,  and  know  every- 
thing that  passes  in  the  different  quarters  and  divisions, 
not  only  of  this  great  city,  but  of  the  whole  kingdom. 
My  readers,  too,  have  the  satisfaction  to  find '  that  there  is 
no  rank  or  degree  among  them  who  have^  not  their  ^  rep- 
resentative in  this  club,  and  that  there  is  always  somebody 
present  who  will  take  care  of  their  ^  respective  interests, 
that  nothing  may  be  written  or  published  to  the  prejudice 
or  infringement  of  their  just  rights  and  privileges. 

I  last  night  sat  very  late  in  company  with  this  select 
body  of  friends,  who  entertained  me  with  several  remarks 
which  they  and  others  had  made  uj)on  these  my  specula- 
tions, as  also  with  the  various  success  which  they  ^  had  met 
Avith  among  their  several  ranks  and  degrees  of  readers. 
Will  Honeycomb  told  me,  in  the  softest®  manner  he  could, 
that  there  were  some  ladies  ("'  But  for  your  comfort,"  says 
Will,   "they  are  not  those  of  the  most  wit")  that  were 

'  Of  finding.  -  Which  has.  '  Its. 

*  "  My  readers'."  ''  The  ''speculations."  '  Most  delicate. 


CONCESSJOXS   TO    THE  SPECTATOR  21 

offended  at  the  liberties  I  liad  taken  with  tlie  opera  ^  and 
the  puppet-show;^  tliut  some  of  them  v.ere  lilcewise  very 
much  surprised  that  I  slioukl  think  such  serious  points  as 
the  dress  and  equipage  of  persons  of  quality,  projjer  sub- 
jects for  raillery.^ 

He  was  going  on,  when  Sir  Andrew  Freeport  took  him 
up  short,  and  told  him  that  the  papers  he  hinted  at  had 
done  great  good  in  the  city,  and  that  all  their  ^  wives  and 
daughters  were  the  better  for  them;  and  furtlier  added, 
that  the  whole  city  thought  tliemselves  very  much  obliged 
to  me  for  declaring  my  generous  intentions  to  scourge 
vice  and  folly  as  they  appear  in  a  multitude,  without  con- 
descending to  be  a  publisher  of  particular  intrigues.  •'  In 
short,"  says  Sir  Andrew,  "  if  you  avoid  that  foolish  beaten 
road  of  falling  upon  aldermen  and  citizens,^  and  employ 
your  pen  upon  the  vanity  and  luxury  of  courts,  your  paper 
must  needs  be  of  general  use." 

Upon  this  my  friend  the  Templar  told  Sir  Andrew  "  that 
he  wondered  to  hear  a  man  of  his  sense  talk  after  that 
manner;  that  the  city  had  always  been  the  province  for 
satire;  and  that  the  wits  of  King  Charles's''  time  jested 
upon  nothing  else  during  his  whole  reign. "^  lie  then 
shewed,  by  the  examples  of  Horace.'  Juvenal.'  Boileau." 
and  the  best  writers  of  every  age,  that  the  follies  of  the 
stage  and  court  had  never  been  accounted  too  sacred  for 
ridicule,  how  great  soever  the  persons  might  be  that  pat- 
ronized them.  ''^  But  after  all,"  says  he,  ''I  think  your 
raillery  has  made  too  great  an  excursion,  in  attacking  sev- 
eral persons  of  the  Inns  of  Court;  ^  and  I  do  not  believe 

'  See  Spectator  Nos.  5,  13,  14,  18,  22,  29,  and  31.  Morley's  edi- 
tion has  interesting  notes. 

^  See  Spectator  Xo.  IG.  ^  The  citizens'. 

♦  See  Spectator  Nos.  8,  16,  19,  20,  21. 

"  Charles  II. 

"  How  long  was  that? 

'■  All  wrote  satires.    See  biographical  dictionaries  or  encyclopaedias. 

''Spectator  No.  31.  See,  also.  No.  49,  which  was  written  after- 
wards. 


22  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

you  can  show  me  any  precedent  for  your  behavior  in  that 
particular." 

My  good  friend  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley,  who  had  said 
nothing  all  this  while,  began  his  speech  with  a  "Pish!  " 
and  told  us  that  he  wondered  to  see  so  many  men  of  sense 
so  very  serious  upon  fooleries.  "Let  our  good  friend," 
says  he,  "attack  every  one  that  deserves  it;  I  would  only 
advise  you,  Mr.  Spectator  "  (applying  himself  to  me),  "to 
take  care  how  you  meddle  Avith  country  squires.  They  are 
the  ornaments  of  the  English  nation;  men  of  good  heads 
and  sound  bodies!  and,  let  me  tell  you,  some  of  them  take 
it  ill  of  you  that  you  mention  fox-hunters  with  so  little 
respect."' 

Captain  Sentry  spoke  very  sparingly  on  this  occasion. 
What  he  said  was  only  to  commend  my  prudence  in  not 
touching  upon  the  army,  and  advised  me  to  continue  to  act 
discreetly  in  that  point. 

By  this  time  I  found  every  subject  of  my  speculations 
was  taken  away  from  me,  by  one  or  other  of  the  club, 
and  began  to  think  myself  in  the  condition  of  the  good 
man  that  had  one  wife  who  took  a  dislike  to  his  grey  hairs, 
and  another  to  his  black,  till  by  their  picking  out  what 
each  of  them  had  an  aversion  to,  they  left  his  head  alto- 
gether bald  and  naked. 

While  I  Avas  thus  musing  Avitli  myself,  my  worthy  friend 
the  clergyman,  who,  very  luckily  for  me,  Avas  at  the  club 
that  night,  undertook  my  cause.  He  told  us  that  he  Avon- 
dered  any  order  of  persons  should  think  themselves  too 
considerable  to  be  advised.  That  it  AA'as  not  quality,  but 
innocence,  Avhich  exempted  men  from  reproof.  That  vice 
and  folly  ought  to  be  attacked  Avherever  they  could  be  met 
Avith,  and  especially  Avhen  they  Avere  placed  in  high  and 
conspicuous  stations  of  life.  He  further  added,  that  my 
paper  would  only  serve  to  aggravate  the  pains  of  poverty, 

^  Spectator  'No.  474.  In  Sir  Roger's  criticism  there  is  something 
of  anticipation,  since,  of  course,  No.  474  had  not  yet  appeared. 


CONCUSSIONS  TO   THE  SPECTATOR  23 

if  it  chiefly  exposed  those  who  are  ah'eady  depressed,  and 
in  some  measure  turned  into  ridicule,  by  the  meanness  of 
their  conditions  and  circumstances.  He  afterward  pro- 
ceeded to  take  notice  of  tlie  great  use  this  paper  might  be 
of  to  the  public,  by  reprehending  those  vices  which  are  too 
trivial  for  the  chastisement  of  the  law,  and  too  fantastical 
for  the  cognizance  of  the  j)ulpit.  He  then  advised  me  to 
prosecute  my  undertaking  with  cheerfulness,  and  assured 
me,  that  whoever  might  be  displeased  with  me,  I  should 
be  approved  by  all  those  Avhosc  j) raises  do  honor  to  the 
persons  on  whom  they  are  bestowed. 

The  whole  club  pays  a  particular  deference  to  the  dis- 
course of  this  gentleman,  and  are  drawn  into  what  he  says, 
as  much  by  the  candid  and  ingenuous  manner  with  which 
he  delivers  himself,  as  by  the  strength  of  argument  and 
force  of  reason  which  he  makes  use  of.  Will  Honeycomb 
immediately  agreed  that  what  he  ^  had  said  was  right,  and 
that,  for  his  2  part,  he  would  not  insist  upon  the  quarter 
which  he  had  demanded  for  the  ladies.  Sir  Andrew  gave 
up  the  city  with  the  same  frankness.  The  Templar  would 
not  stand  out,  and  was  followed  by  Sir  Roger  and  the  Cap- 
tain— who  all  agreed  that  I  should  be  at  liberty  to  carry 
the  war  into  what  quarter  I  pleased,  provided  I  continued 
to  combat  with  criminals  in  a  body,  and  to  assault  the  vice 
without  hurting  the  person. 

This  debate,  which  was  held  for  the  good  of  mankind, 
put  me  in  mind  of  that  which  the  Roman  triumvirate  were 
formerly  engaged  in  for  their  ^  destruction.  Every  man 
at  first  stood  hard  for  his  friend,  till  they  found  that  by 
this  means  they  should  spoil  their  proscription;  and  at 
length,  making  a  sacrifice  of  all  their  acquaintance  and 
relations,  furnished  out  a  very  decent  execution.* 

'The  clergyman. 

"  Will's. 

*  Mankind's.     Note  the  antithesis. 

*See  Shakespeare's  Julius  Ccesar,  Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  ;  also  see  Plu- 
tarch's Life  of  Antony. 


24  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

Having  thus  taken  my  resolution  ^  to  march  on  boldly  in 
the  cause  of  virtue  and  good  sense,  and  to  annoy  their ' 
adversaries  in  whatever  degree  or  rank  of  men  they^  may 
be  found — I  shall  be  deaf  for  the  future  to  all  the  remon- 
strances that  shall  be  made  to  me  on  this  account.  If 
Punch  grows  extravagant,^  I  shall  reprimand  him  very 
freely.  If  the  stage  becomes  a  nursery  of  folly  and  imperti- 
nence, I  shall  not  be  afraid  to  animadvert  upon  it.  In 
short,  if  I  meet  with  anything  in  city,  court,  or  country, 
that  shocks  modesty  or  good  manners,  I  shall  use  my  utmost 
endeavors  to  make  an  example  of  it.  I  must,  however, 
intreat  every  particular  person  who  does  me  the  honor  to 
be  a  reader  of  this  paper,  never  to  think  himself,  or  any 
one  of  his  friends  or  enemies,  aimed  at  in  what  is  said :  for 
I  promise  him,  never  to  draw  a  faulty  character  which  does 
not  fit  a  thousand  people ;  or  to  publish  a  single  paper  that 
is  not  written  in  the  spirit  of  benevolence  and  with  a  love 
to  mankind. 

C. 

'  Resolved.  '  Tirtue  and  good  sense's. 

'The  adversaries. 

*  In  the  puppet-show,  where  great  license  of  speech  was  some- 
times tolerated.     See  Taller  Xo.  16. 


iylE  ROGERS  CLIENT  05 


SIR    ROGER  S  CLIENT. 

[Spectator  No.  ^1.     Thursdau,  April  \i,  1711.     Addison.] 

Xon  illn  colo  caliithisvc  Mincrvic 

Femineas  assueta  mauus . 

Virgil. 

Some  months  ago,  my  friend  Sir  Roger,  being  in  the 
country,  enclosed  a  letter  to  me,  directed  to  a  certain  lady 
whom  I  shall  here  call  by  the  name  of  Leonora,  and  as  it 
contained  matters  of  consequence,  desired  me  to  deliver  it 
to  her  with  my  own  hand.  Accordingly  I  waited  upon 
her  ladyship  pretty  early  in  the  morning,  and  was  desired  by 
her  woman  to  walk  into  her  lady's  library,  till  such  time 
as  she  was  in  a  readiness  to  receive  me.  The  very  sound 
of  a  lady's  library  ^  gave  me  a  great  curiosity  to  see  it;  and 
as  it  was  some  time  before  the  lady  came  to  me,  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  turning  over  a  great  many  of  her  books, 
which  were  ranged  together  in  a  very  beautiful  order.  At 
the  end  of  the  folios  (which  were  finely  bound  and  gilt) 
were  great  jars  of  china?  placed  one  above  another  in  a 
very  noble  piece  of  architecture.^  Tlie  quartos  were  sepa- 
rated from  the  octavos  by  a  pile  of  smaller  vessels,  which 
rose  in  a  delightful  pyramid.^  The  octavos  were  bounded 
by  tea-dishes  of  all  shapes,  colors,  and  sizes,  Avhich  were 
60  disposed  on  a  wooden  frame  that  they  looked  like  one 
continued  pillar  indented  with  the  finest  strokes  of  sculp- 
ture and  stained  Avitli  the  greatest  variety  of  dyes. 

'See  Tatler  No.  248.  In  1714  Steele  published  three  volumes 
called  The  Ladies'  Library. 

'Shortly  before  this  time  a  fashion  of  collecting  useless  pieces  of 
china  had  begun  to  be  very  prevalent.  It  was  indulged  for  some 
years  at  great  expense  and  to  an  astonishing  degree.  See  Tatler 
is^o.  23,  '  Ib  this  real  praise  ? 


26  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET 

That  part  of  the  library  which  was  designed  for  the 
reception  of  plays  and  pamphlets,  and  other  loose  papers, 
was  enclosed  in  a  kind  of  square,  consisting  of  one  of  the 
prettiest  grotesque  ^  works  that  ever  I  saw,  and  made  up 
of  scaramouches,  lions,  monkeys,  mandarins,  trees,  shells, 
and  a  thousand  other  odd  figures  in  china  ware.  In  the 
midst  of  the  room  was  a  little  japan  table,  with  a  quire  of 
gilt  paper  upon  it,  and  on  the  paper  a  silver  snuff  box 
made  in  the  shape  of  a  little  book.  I  found  there  were 
several  other  counterfeit  books  upon  the  upper  shelves, 
which  were  carved  in  wood,  and  served  only  to  fill  up  the 
number,^  like  fagots^  in  the  muster  of  a  regiment.  I  was 
wonderfully  pleased  with  such  a  mixed  kind  of  furniture 
as  seemed  very  suitable  both  to  the  lady  and  the  scholar,* 
and  did  not  know,  at  first,  whether  I  should  fancy  myself 
in  a  grotto  or  in  a  library. 

Upon  my  looking  into  the  books,  I  found  there  were 
some  few  which  the  lady  had  bought  for  her  own  use;  but 
that  most  of  them  had  been  got  together,  either  because 
she  had  heard  them  praised,  or  because  she  had  seen  the 
authors  of  them.^  Among  several  that  I  examined,  I  very 
well  remember  these  that  follow : 

Ogilby's  Yirgil.^ 

Dryden's  Juvenal. 

Cassandra.' 

Cleopatra.'' 

Astraea.'^ 

Sir  Isaac  Newton's  Works. 

'  How  would  this  term  apply  to  the  whole  librai'y  ? 

*  What  does  this  imply  as  to  the  lady's  literary  accomplishments  ? 

*  An  uncommon  word  in  this  sense.     See  dictionary. 

*  Note  the  concealed  satire.  A  famous  college  president  once  gave 
the  following  testimonial  to  a  graceless  fellow  who  had  the  effrontery 

to  request  a  recommendation:    "Mr.  is  about  to  graduate 

with  eqital  credit  to  himself  and  honor  to  the  institution." 

^  She  valued  them  as  relics. 

^  Of  course  the  reader  will  readily  infer  that  the  collection  is  a 
veritable  miscellany,  showing  no  evidence  of  literary  taste.  There 
are,  however,  some  literary  weaknes.ses.  Full  notes  may  be  found  in 
Morley's  Spectator.  *  Translations  of  French  romances. 


SIR  ROGER'S  CLIENT  27 

The  Grand  Cyrus;  ^  with  a  pin  stuck  in  one  of  the 
middle  leaves. 

Pembroke's  Arcadia.^ 

Locke '^  of  Human  Understanding;^  with  a  paper  of 
patches  in  it. 

A  spelling  book. 

A  dictionary  for  the  explanation  of  hard  words. 

Sherlock  ^  upon  Death. 

The  Fifteen  Comforts  of  ]\Iatriniony. 

Sir  William  Temple's  ^  Essays. 

Father  Malebrauche's "  Search  after  Truth;  translated 
into  English. 

A  book  of  novels. 

The  Academy  of  Compliments. 

The  Ladies'  Calling. 

Tales  in  Verse,  by  Mr.  D'Urfey;^  bound  in  red  leather, 
gilt  on  the  back,  and  doubled  down  in  several  places. 

All  the  classic  authors  in  wood.^ 

A  Bet  of  Elzevirs  by  the  same  hand."^ 

Clelia'^;  which  opened  of  itself  in  the  place  that  describes 
two  lovers  in  a  bower. 

'The  most  famous  French  romance  of  the  time,  in  ten  volumes, 
by  Mile,  de  Scudery. 

"  By  Sir  Philip  Sydney,  but  published  by  his  sister,  the  Countess 
of  Pembroke. 

^In  Tickell's  (1721)  edition  this  reads  :  "  Lock  of  human  under- 
standing." 

*  Rather  heavy  for  Leonora,  but  a  good  portfolio  for  patches  (bits 
of  black  silk  stuck  upon  the  faces  of  fashionable  ladies,  and  used  as 
foils  to  heighten  the  whiteness  of  their  complexions). 

^  Dean  of  St.  Paul's. 

"English  statesman,  diplomat,  and  author.     Died  1G90. 

'  A  French  philosopher,  then  at  the  height  of  his  fame. 

"  A  Restoration  writer  of  dissolute  songs  and  plays. 

'If  there  was  anything  which  Addison  admired  in  literature  it 
was  the  classic  authors.  This  line,  tlien,  is  most  keenly  satirical. 
See  note  2,  p.  2G. 

*"  /.  e. ,  the  carpenter's.  "  By  the  same  hand  "  was  a  common  phrase 
in  Addison's  time  to  denote  hy  the  same  author.  Notwithstanding 
his  strictures  against  puns  (Spectators  Nos.  61  ff.,  39G,  454,  504)  he 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  liere. 

"  Another  French  romance  in  ten  volumes  by  Mile,  de  Scudery. 


28  'STT?  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

Baker's  Chronicle.^ 
Advice  to  a  Daughter. 
The  Xew  Atalantis,^  with  a  key  to  it. 
Mr.  Steele's  Cliristiau  Hero.* 

A  prayer-book;  with  a  bottle  of  Hungary  water*  by  the 
side  of  it. 

Dr.  Sacheverell's '^  speech. 

Fielding's  Trial. 

Seneca's  Morals. 

Taylor's  Holy  Living  and'Dying. 

La  Ferte's  Instructions  for  Country  Dances. 

I  was  taking  a  catalogue  in  my  pocket-book  of  these  and 
several  other  authors,  when  Leonora  entered,  and,  upon 
my  presenting  her  with  the  letter  from  the  knight,  told 
me,  with  an  unspeakable  grace,  that  she  hoped  Sir  Roger 
was  in  good  health;  I  answered  "  Yes,"  "  for  I  hate  long 
speeches,  and  after  a  bow  or  two  retired. 

Leonora  was  formerly  a  celebrated  beauty,  and  is  still  a 
very  lovely  woman.  She  has  been  a  widow  for  two  or 
three  years,^  and  being  unfortunate  in  her  first  marriage, 
has  taken  a  resolution  never  to  venture  upon  a  second. 
She  has  no  children  to  take  care  of,  and  leaves  the  manage- 
ment of  her  estate  to  my  good  friend  Sir  Roger.  But  as 
the  mind  naturally  sinks  into  a  kind  of  lethargy,  and  falls 
asleep,  that  is  not  agitated^  by  some  favorite  pleasures 

*A  Chronicle  of  the  Kings  of  England,  by  Sir  Richard  Baker. 
A  favorite  book  of  Sir  lloger's,  as  will  be  seen,  but  •'  a  dry  and  jejune 
performance." 

'A  somewhat  scandalous  book  by  Mrs.  Manley,  attacking  promi- 
nent Wliigs  under  concealed  names  ;  hence  the  need  of  a  key. 

^  A  treatise  published  by  Steele  in  1701  "  as  a  check  on  his  own 
irrcgularites — a  self  monitor." 

*  Aqua  regin(8  Jliingaria',  a  favorite  perfume  of  the  time,  in 
which  lavender  and  rosemary  were  the  principal  ingredients. 

°A  famous  Tory  divine  wlio  had  been  impeached  for  preaching 
two  political  sermons  ridiculing  the  Whigs. 

'  Has  the  Spectator  spoken  before  ?  See  p.  3  and  note  1.  Also 
read  p.  4. 

■  She  was  a  Mrs.  Perry,  formerly  Miss  Shepheard. 
•^  Is  a  better  arrangement  possible  i" 


SIR  ROGER'S  CLIENT  29 

and  pursuits,  Leonora  has  turned  all  the  passions  of  her 
sex  into  a  love  of  books  and  retirement.  >She  converses 
chiefly  with  men  (as  she  has  often  said  herself),  but  it  is 
only  in  their  writings;  and  admits  of  very  few  male  visit- 
ants except  my  friend  Sir  Roger,  whom  she  hears  with 
great  pleasure  and  without  scandal. 

As  her  reading  has  lain  very  much  among  romances, 
it  has  given  her  a  very  particular  turn  of  thinking,  and 
discovers  itself  even  in  her  house,  her  gardens,  and  her 
furniture.  Sir  Roger  has  entertained  mc  an  hour  together 
with  a  description  of  her  country  seat,  which  is  situated  in 
a  kind  of  wilderness,  about  an  hundred  miles  distant  from 
London,  and  looks  like  a  little  enchanted  palace.  The 
rocks  about  her  are  shaped  into  artificial  grottoes  covered 
with  woodbines  and  jessamines.  The  woods  are  cut  into 
Bhady  walks,  twisted  into  bowers,  and  filled  with  cages  of 
turtles.^  The  springs  are  made  to  run  among  pebbles,  and 
by  that  means  taught  ^  to  murmur  very  agreeably.  They 
are  likewioe  collected  into  a  beautiful  lake  that  is  inhabited 
by  a  couple  of  swans,  and  empties  itself  by  a  little  rivulet 
which  runs  through  a  green  meadow,  and  is  known  in  the 
family  by  the  name  of  The  Purling  Stream.^ 

The  knight  likewise  tells  me  that  this  lady  preserves  her 
game  better  than  any  of  the  gentlemen  in  the  country. 
*'Not,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "that  she  sets  so  great  a  value 
upon  her  partridges  and  j)heasants,  as  upon  her  larks  and 
nightingales;  for  she  says  that  every  bird  which  is  killed 
in  her  ground  will  spoil  a  concert,  and  that  she  shall 
certainly  miss  him  the  next  year." ^ 

'  With  wings,  not  with  shells.  Cf.  Song  of  Sonys,  ii.  13,  and  a 
ludicrous  incident  which  happened  in  Palestine  (as  related  by  Marie 
Twain  in  Innocents  Abroad),  when  one  of  the  '•innocents"  waited 
by  a  f  rog-po(fd  to  hear  a  tortoise  sing. 

'  A  delicious  sarcasm.  The  romantic  Leonora  "  teaches"  brooks 
how  to  murmur  in  genteel  fashion,  instead  of  running  wild  and 
brawling. 

'  This  is  worthy  of  Mile.  Scudery  herself,  or  of  Molifire's  satire,  Les 
Precieuses  ridicules. 

*  Xote   the  comical  effect   produced   by  the  contrast  of  the  old 


30  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVERLEY 

When  I  think  how  oddly  this  lady  is  improved  by  learn- 
ing, I  look  upon  her  with  a  mixture  of  admiration  and 
pity.^  Amidst  these  innocent  entertainments  which  she 
has  formed  to  herself,  how  much  more  valuable  does  she 
appear  than  those  of  her  sex  who  employ  themselves  in 
diversions  that  are  less  reasonable,  though  more  in  fashion. 
What  improvements  would  a  woman  have  made,  who  is  so 
susceptible  of  impressions  from  what  she  reads,  had  she 
been  gnided  to  such  books  as  have  a  tendency  to  enlighten 
the  understanding  and  rectify  the  passions,  as  well  as  to 
those  which  are  of  little  more  use  than  to  divert  the 
imagination. 

But  the  manner  of  a  lady's  employing  herself  usefully 
in  reading  shall  be  the  subject  of  another  paper,  in  which 
I  design  to  recommend  such  particular  books  as  may  be 
proper  for  the  improvement  of  the  sex.  And  as  this  is 
a  subject  of  a  very  nice  nature,  I  shall  desire  my  corre- 
spondents to  give  me  their  thoughts  upon  it.^ 

C. 

knight's  views  with  those  of  his  fair  client;  one  is  densely  practical, 
the  other  absurdly  romantic  :  yet  from  opposite  motives  each  pre- 
serves the  game. 

*  Here  Addison  drops  humor  and  satire,  and  talks  plain  sense. 

«  They  did.    See  Nos.  93,  140. 


COVERLEY  HALL  31 

VI. 

COVERLEY    HALL. 

[Spectator  No.  lOG.     Monday,  July '2,  1711.     Addison.l 

Iliiic  tibi  copia 

Manabit  ad  plenum,  benigno 
Ruris  honoruin  opulenta  cornu. 

Horace. 

Having  often  received  an  invitation  from  my  friend, 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  to  pass  away  a  month  witli  him  in 
the  country,  I  last  week  accompanied  liim  thither,  and  am 
settled  with  him  for  some  time  at  his  country-house,  where 
I  intend  to  form  several  of  my  ensuing  speculations.  Sir 
Roger,  who  is  very  well  acquainted  with  my  humor,  lets 
me  rise  and  go  to  bed  when  I  please,  dine  at  his  own  table 
or  in  my  chamber,  as  I  think  fit,  sit  still  and  say  nothing 
without  bidding  me  be  merry.  Wlien  the  gentlemen  of 
the  country  come  to  see  him,  he  only  shows  me  at  a  dis- 
tance :  as  I  have  been  walking  in  his  fields  I  have  observed 
them  stealing  a  sight  of  me  over  an  hedge,  and  have  heard 
the  knight  desiring  them  not  to  let  me  see  them,  for  that 
I  hated  to  be  stared  at. 

I  am  the  more  at  ease  in  Sir  Roger's  family  because  it 
consists  of  sober  and  staid  persons;  for,  as  the  knight  is 
the  best  master  in  the  world,  he  seldom  changes  his  serv- 
ants; and  as  he  is  beloved  by  all  about  him,  his  servants 
never  care  for  leaving  him;  by  this  means  his  domestics 
are  all  in  years,  and  grown  old  with  their  master.  You 
would  take  his  valet  de  cliambre  for  his  brother,  his  but- 
ler is  gray-headed,  his  groom  is  one  of  the  gravest  men 
that  I  have  ever  seen,  and  his  coachman  has  the  looks  of  a 
privy  counsellor.     You  see  the  goodness  of  the  master  even 


32  SIR  ROGER  J)E  COVERLEY 

in  the  old  house-dog,  and  in  a  gray  pad  ^  that  is  kept  in 
the  stable  with  great  care  and  tenderness,  out  of  regard 
to  his  past  services,  though  he  has  been  useless  for  several 
years. 

I  could  not  but  observe  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  the 
joy  that  appeared  in  the  countenances  of  these  ancient 
domestics  upon  my  friend's  arrival  at  his  country-seat. 
Some  of  them  could  not  refrain  from  tears  at  the  sight  of 
their  old  master;  every  one  of  them  pressed  forward  to  do 
something  for  him,  and  seemed  discouraged  if  they  were 
not  employed.  At  the  same  time  the  good  old  knight, 
with  a  mixture  of  the  father  and  the  master  of  the  family, 
tempered  the  inquiries  after  his  own  affairs  with  several 
kind  questions  relating  to  themselves.^  This  humanity 
and  good-nature  engages  everybody  to  him,  so  that  when 
he  is  pleasant  upon  any  of  them,  all  his  family  are  in  good 
humor,  and  none  so  much  as  the  person  whom  he  diverts 
himself  with;  on  the  contrary,  if  he  coughs,  or  betrays 
any  infirmity  of  old  age,  it  is  easy  for  a  stander-by  to 
observe  a  secret  concern  in  the  looks  of  all  his  servants. 

My  worthy  friend  has  put  me  under  the  particular  care 
of  his  butlerj  who  is  a  very  prudent  man,  and,  as  well 
as  the  rest  of  his  fellow-servants,  Avonderfully  desirous  of 
pleasing  me,  because  they  have  often  heard  their  master 
talk  of  me  as  of  his  particular  friend. 

My  chief  companion,  when  Sir  Eoger  is  diverting  himself 
in  the  woods  or  the  fields,  is  a  very  venerable  man  who  is  ever 
with  Sir  Roger,  and  has  lived  at  his  house  in  the  nature  of 
a  chaplain^  above  thirty  years.  This  gentleman  is  a  per- 
son of  good  sense  and  some  learning,  of  a  very  regular  life 
and  obliging  conversation ;  he  heartily  loves  Sir  Roger,  and 
knows  that  he  is  very  much  in  the  old  knight's  esteem/  so 

'  An  easy-going  horse.  "  An  abbot  on  an  ambling  pad." — Lady 
of  Sf)  aloft. 

*  The  domestics. 

'  Capacity  of  chaplain.  -  - 

*  Very  much  esteemed  by  the  old  knight. 


COVE II LEV  HALL  33 

that  he  lives  in  the  I'ainily  iatl\er  as  a  relation  tlian  a 
dependant. 

I  have  observed  in  several  of  my  papers  that  my  friend. 
Sir  Eoger,  amidst  all  his  good  qualities,  is  something  of 
an  humorist,^  and  that  his  virtues  as  well  as  imperfections 
are,  as  it  were,  tinged  by  a  certain  extravagance,  which 
makes  them  particularly  liis,  and  distinguishes  them  from 
those  of  other  men.  This  cast  of  mind,  as  it  is  generally 
very  innocent  in  itself,  so  it  renders  '  liis  conversation  highly 
agreeable,  and  more  delightful  than  the  same  degree  of 
sense  and  virtue  Avould  appear  in  their  common  and  ordi- 
nary colors.  As  I  was  walking  with  him  last  night,  he 
asked  me  how  I  liked  the  good  man  whom  I  have  just  now 
mentioned,  and  without  staying  for  my  answer, '^  told  me 
that  he  was  afraid  of  being  insulted  with  Latin  and  Greek 
at  his  own  table,^  for  Avhich  reason  he  desired  a  particular 
friend  of  his,  at  the  University,  to  find  him  out  a  clergy- 
man rather  of  plain  sense  than  much  learning,  of  a 
good  aspect,  a  clear  voice,  a  sociable  temper,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, a  man  that  understood  a  little  of  backgammon.  ^My 
friend,  says  Sir  Roger,  found  me  out  this  gentleman,  mIio, 
besides  the  endowments  required  of  him,  is,  they  tell  me,  a 

'  Addison  does  not  mean  a  wit ;  what  otlier  definition  is  demanded 
here?  C'f"  Filling  from  time  to  time  his  Inimorous  stage,"  in  Words- 
worth's Ode  on  Immortality. 

"  Recast  the  sentence  for  tlie  sake  of  smoothness. 

»  Why  not  ? 

*  "  The  literary  acquirements  of  the  squireantry  of  Sir  Roger's  era 
were  few.  At  a  time  not  long  antecedent  '  an  esqnire  passed  for  a 
great  scholar  of  ^urft^/'as ;  and  Baker's  Chronicle,  Tarleton's  Jests, 
and  the  Seven  Champions  of  Christendom  lay  in  his  hall  window 
among  angling  and  fishing  lines.'  But  that  Sir  Roger  may  appear  in 
this,  as  in  other  respects,  above  the  average  of  his  order,  there  is  in 
Coverley  Hall  a  library  rich  in  '  divinity  and  MS.  household  receipts.' 
Sir  Roger,  too,  had  drawn  many  observations  together  out  of  his 
reading  in  Baker's  Chronicle  and  other  authors  '  who  always  lie  in  his 
hall  window  ';  and,  however  limited  his  own  classic  lore,  it  is  certain 
that  both  in  love  and  friendship  he  displayed  strong  literary  sympa- 
thies. The  perverse  widow,  whose  cruelty  darkened  his  whole  exist- 
ence, was  a  'reading  lady,'  a  'desperate  scholar,'  and  in  argument 
'  as  learned  as  the  best  philosopher  in  Europe,'  one  who.  when  in  the 
country,  '  does  not  run  into  dairies,  but  reads  upon  the  nature  of 
3 


34  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

good  scholar,  though  he  does  not  show  it;  ^  I  have  given  him 
the  parsonage  of  the  parish,  and,  because  I  know  his  vahie, 
have  settled  upon  him  a  good  annuity  for  life.  If  he  out- 
lives me,  he  shall  find  that  he  was  higher  in  my  esteem  than 
perhaps  he  thinks  he  is.  He  has  now  been  with  me  thirty 
years,  and  though  he  does  not  know  I  have  taken  notice 
of  it,  has  never  in  all  that  time  asked  anything  of  me  for 
himself,  though  he  is  every  day  soliciting  me  for  some- 
thing in  behalf  of  one  or  other  of  my  tenants,  his  parish- 
ioners. There  has  not  been  a  lawsuit  in  the  parish  since 
he  has  lived  among  them;  if  any  dispute  arises  they  apply 
themselves  to  him  for  the  decision;  if  they  do  not  acqui- 
esce in  his  judgment,  which  I  think  never  happened  above 
once,  or  twice  at  most,  they  appeal  to  me.  At  his  first 
settling  with  me  I  made  him  a  present  of  all  the  good 
sermons  which  have  been  printed  in  English,  and  only 
begged  of  him  that  every  Sunday  he  would  pronounce  ^  one 
of  them  in  the  pulpit.  Accordingly  he  has  digested  them 
into  such  a  series  that  they  follow  one  another  naturally, 
and  make  a  continued  system  of  practical  divinity. 

As  Sir  Koger  was  going  on  in  his  story,  the  gentleman 
we  were  talking  of  came  up  to  us;  and  upon  the  knight's 
asking  him  who  preached  to-morrow  (for  it  was  Saturday 
night),  told  us  the  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph  in  the  morning 
and  Dr.  South  in  the  afternoon.  He  then  showed  us  his 
list  of  preachers  for  the  whole  year,  where  I  saw  with  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure  Archbishop  Tillotson,  Bishop  Saun- 
derson.  Dr.  Barrow,  Dr.  Calamy,  with  several  living  authors 
who  have  published  discourses  of  practical  divinity.  I  no 
sooner  saw  this  venerable  man  in  the  pulpit  but  I  very 

plants — has  a  glass  hive  and  comes  into  the  garden  out  of  books  to 
see  them  work.'  In  his  friendship,  again,  Sir  Roger  was  all  for  learn- 
ing. Besides  the  Spectator — to  whom  he  eventually  bequeathed  his 
books — he  indulged  a  Platonic  admiration  for  Leonora,  a  widow,  for- 
merly acelebrated  beauty — and  still  a  very  lovely  woman — 'who  turned 
all  the  passion  of  her  sex  into  a  love  of  books  and  retirement.' " — G. 
W.  Geeene. 

*  Unconscious  humor  on  Sir  Roger's  part. 

'  Deliver.     Still  the  quaint  old  word  is  more  suggestive. 


COVE  RLE  Y  HALL  35 

much  approved  of  my  friend's  insisting  upon  the  qualifi- 
cations of  a  good  aspect  and  a  clear  voice;  for  I  was  so 
charmed  with  the  gracefulness  of  his  figure  and  delivery, 
as  well  as  with  the  discourses  he  pronounced,  that  I  think  I 
never  passed  any  time  more  to  my  satisfaction.  A  sermon 
repeated  after  this  manner  is  like  the  composition  of  a  poet 
in  the  mouth  of  a  graceful  actor. 

I  could  heartily  wish  that  more  of  our  country  clergy 
would  follow  this  example;  and,  instead  of  wasting  their 
spirits  in  laborious  compositions  of  their  own>  Avould  en- 
deavor after  a  handsome  elocution,  and  all  those  other  tal- 
ents that  are  proper  to  enforce  what  has  been  penned  by 
greater  masters.  This  would  not  only  be  more  easy  to 
themselves,  but  more  edifying  to  the  people.^  L. 

^  Does  Addison  speak  seriously? 


36  Sni  JiOGJJJi  1)E  COVEliLEY 

VII. 

THE  COVERLEY  HOUSEHOLD. 

[Spectator  No.  107.     Tuesday,  July  3,  1711.     Steele.} 

-^sopo  ingentem  statnam  posuere  Attici, 
Servuinque  collocfirunt  aeterna  in  basi, 
Patere  honoris  scirent  ut  cuncti  viara. 

PHiBDRU.S. 

The  reception,  manner  of  attendance,  undisturbed  free- 
dom and  quiet,  wliich  I  meet  with  here  in  the  country,  has 
confirmed  me  in  the  opinion  I  always  had,  that  the  general 
corruption  of  manners  in  servants  is  owing  to  the  conduct 
of  masters.  The  aspect  of  every  one  in  the  family  carries 
BO  much  satisfaction  that  it  appears  he  knows  the  happy  lot 
which  has  befallen  him  in  being  a  member  of  it.  There 
is  one  particular  which  I  have  seldom  seen  but  at  Sir 
Koger's;  it  is  usual,  in  all  other  places,  that  servants  fly 
from  the  parts  of  the  house  through  which  their  master 
is  passing;  on  the  contrary,  here,  they  industriously  place 
themselves  in  his  way;  and  it  is  on  both  sides,  as  it  were, 
understood  as  a  visit,  when  the  servants  appear  without 
calling.^  This  proceeds  from  the  humane  and  equal  tem- 
per of  the  Man  of  the  House,  who  also  perfectly  well  knows 
how  to  enjoy  a  great  estate  with  such  economy  as  ever  to  be 
much  beforehand.  This  makes  his  own  mind  untroubled, 
and  consequently  unapt  to  vent  peevish  expressions,  or 
give  passionate  or  inconsistent  orders  to  those  about  him. 
Thus  respect  and  love  go  together;  and  a  certain  cheerful- 
ness in  performance  of  their  duty  is  the  particular  dis- 
tinction of  the  lower  part  of  this  family.  When  a  servant 
is  called  before  his  master,  he  does  not  come  with  an  expec- 
tation to  hear  himself  rated  for  some  trivial  fault,  threat- 

'  Place  the  last  clause  so  as  to  give  a  clearer  idea  of  the  meaning. 


THK  COVKIiLEV  UoVSKlIOLl)  37 

ened  to  be  stripped,  or  used  with  any  other  mil)ecomiiig  lan- 
guage, which  mean  masters  often  give  to  worthy  servants; 
but  it  is  often  to  know  wliat  road  he  toolc  tliat  he  came  so 
readily  back  according  to  order;  whether  he  passed  by  such 
aground;  if  the  old  man  who  rents  it  is  in  good  health; 
or  whether  he  gave  Sir  Koger's  love  to  him,  or  the  like. 

A  man  who  preserves  a  respect  founded  on  his  benevo- 
lence to  his  dependants  lives  rather  like  a  prince  than  a 
master  in  his  family;  his  orders  are  received  as  favors, 
rather  than  duties;  and  the  distinction  of  approaching  him 
is  part  of  the  reward  for  executing  what  is  comniiinded  by 
him. 

There  is  another  circumstance  iuAvliich  my  friend  excels 
in  his  management,  which  is  the  manner  of  rewarding  his 
Bervants;  he  has  ever  been  of  o})inion  tluxt  giving  his  cast 
clothes  to  be  worn  by  valets  has  a  very  ill  effect  upon 
little  minds,  and  creates  a  silly  sense  of  equality  between 
the  parties,  in  persons  affected  only  with  outward  things. 
I  have  heard  him  often  pleasant  on  this  occasion,  and 
describe  a  young  gentleman  al)n.sing  his  man  in  that  coat 
which  a  month  or  two  before  was  the  most  pleasing  dis- 
tinction he  was  conscious  of  in  himself.  He  would  turn 
his  discourse  still  more  pleasantly  upon  the  ladies'  boun- 
ties of  this  kind;  and  I  have  heard  him  say  he  knew  a  tine 
woman  who  distributed  rewards  and  punishments  in  giving 
becoming  or  unbecoming  dresses  to  her  maids. 

But  my  good  friend  is  above  these  little  instances  of 
good-will,  in  bestowing  only  trifles  on  his  servants  ;  a 
good  servant  to  him  is  sure  of  having  it  in  his  choice  very 
soon  of  being  no  servant  at  all.  As  I  before  observed,  he 
is  so  good  an  husband,^  and  knows  so  thoroughly  that 
the  skill  of  the  purse ^  is  the  cardinal^  virtue  of  this  life, — 
I  say,  he  knows  so  well  that  frugality  is  the  support  of  gen- 
erosity, that  he  can  often  spare  a  large  fine  when  a  tene- 

'  How  could  he  be  a  husband  if  he  was  a  bachelor  ? 
*  Economy.  "  Principal. 


38  Sm  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

ment  falls,'  and  give  that  settlement  to  a  good  servant  who 
has  a  mind  to  go  into  the  world,  or  make  a  stranger  pay 
the  fine  to  that  servant,  for  his  more  comfortable  mainte- 
nance, if  he  stays  in  his  service. 

A  man  of  honor  and  generosity  considers  it  would  be 
miserable  to  himself  to  have  no  will  but  that  of  another, 
though  it  were  of  the  best  person  breathing,  and  for  that 
reason  goes  on  as  fast  as  he  is  able  to  jjut  his  servants  into 
independent  livelihoods.  The  greatest  part  of  Sir  Roger's 
estate  is  tenanted  by  persons  Avho  have  served  himself  or 
his  ancestors.  It  was  to  me  extremely  pleasant  to  observe 
the  visitants  ^  from  several  parts  to  welcome  his  arrival  into 
the  country;  and  all  the  difference  that  I  could  take  notice 
of  between  the  late  ^  servants  who  came  to  see  him  and 
those  who  stayed  in  the  family,  was  that  these  latter  were 
looked  upon  as  finer  gentlemen  and  better  courtiei's. 

This  manumission  and  placing  them  in  a  way  of  liveli- 
hood I  look  upon  as  only  what  is  due  to  a  good  servant, 
which  encouragement  will  make  his  successor  be  as  dili- 
gent, as  humble,  and  as  ready  as  he  Avas.  There  is  some- 
thing wonderful  in  the  narrowness  of  those  minds  which 
can  be  pleased  and  be  barren  of  bounty  to  those  who 
please  them. 

One  might,  on  this  occasion,  recount  the  sense  that  great 
persons  in  all  ages  have  had  of  the  merit  of  their  depend- 
ants, and  the  heroic  services  which  men  have  done  their 
masters  in  the  extremity  of  their  fortunes,  and  shown  to 
their  undone  patrons  that  fortune  was  all  the  difference 
between  them;  but  as  I  design  this  my  speculation  only 
as  a  gentle  admonition  to  thankless  masters,  I  shall  not  go 
out  of  the  occurrences  of  common  life,  but  assert  it,  as  a 
general  observation,  that  I  never  saw,  but  in  Sir  Roger's 
family  and  one  or  two  more,  good  servants  treated  as  they 

*  The  fine  collected  from  a  tenant  who  has  allowed  his  rent  to 
depreciate  in  value,  is  "  spared  "  by  Sir  Roger — i.  e.,  not  put  into  his 
own  pocket — and -given  to  a  good  servant. 

''  Tenants  who  came  to  greet  him.     *  Recent. 


THE  COVERLET  HOUSEHOLD  39 

ought  to  be.  Sir  Roger's  kindness  extends  to  their  chil- 
dren's children,  and  this  very  morning  he  sent  his  coach- 
man's grandson  to  prentice. ^  I  sliall  conclnde  this  paper 
with  an  account  of  a  iiictnre  in  his  gallery,  where  there  are 
many  which  will  deserve  my  future  observation. 

At  the  very  upper  end  of  this  handsome  structure  I  saw 
the  portraiture  ^  of  two  young  men  standing  in  a  river,  the 
one  naked,  the  other  in  a  liver}-.  The  person  supported 
seemed  half  dead,  but  still  so  much  alive  as  to  show  in  his 
face  exquisite  joy  and  love  towards  the  other.  I  thought 
the  fainting  figure  resembled  my  friend.  Sir  Eoger;  and, 
looking  at  the  butler,  who  stood  by  me,  for  an  account  of 
it,  he  informed  me  that  the  person  in  the  livery  was  a 
servant  of  Sir  Roger's,  who  stood  on  the  shore  while  his 
master  was  swimming,  and  observing  him  taken  with  some 
sudden  illness,  and  sink  under  water,  Jumped  in  and  saved 
him.  He  *  told  me  Sir  Roger  took  off  the  dress  he  "*  was  in 
as  soon  as  he  came  home,  and  by  a  great  bounty  at  that 
time,  followed  by  his  ^  favor  ever  since,  had  made  him " 
master  of  that  pretty  seat  which  we  saw  at  a  distance  as 
we  came  to  this  house.  I  remembered  indeed  Sir  Roger 
said  there  lived  a  very  worthy  gentleman,  to  whom  he 
was  highly  obliged,  without  mentioning  anything  further. 
Upon  my  looking  a  little  dissatisfied  "  at  some  part  of  tlic 
picture,  my  attendant  informed  me  that  it  was  against  Sir 
Roger's  will,  and  at  the  earnest  request  of  the  gentleman 
himself,  that  he  was  drawn  in  the  habit  in  which  he  had 
saved  his  master.^  K. 

'  To  be  apprenticed.     "  A  painting. 

^  The  butler.     ''  The  servant. 

''  Sir  Roger's.     *  Tlie  servant. 

'  Why?     Observe  that  he  says  notliing,  however, 

*  Which  showed  the  greater  delicacy  ? 


40  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET 


VIIL 


r 


WILL   WIMBLE.       ' 
[Spectator  yo.  108.     Wednesday,  July  4,  1711.     Addison. "[ 

Gratis  anhclans,  iiiulta  agendo  nihil  agens. 

Ph^drus. 

As  I  Avas  yesterday  morning  walking  with  Sir  Roger 
before  his  house,  a  country  fellow  brought  him  a  huge 
fish,  which,  he  told  him,  Mr.  William  Wimble  *  had  caught 
that  very  morning;  and  that  he  presented  it,  with  his  ser- 
vice to  him,  and  intended  to  come  and  dine  with  him.  At 
the  same  time  he  delivered  a  letter,  which  my  friend  read 
to  me  as  soon  as  the  messenger  left  him. 

"  Sir  Roger, —  I  desire  you  to  accept  of  a  jack,  which  is 
the  best  I  have  caught  this  season.  I  intend  to  come  and 
stay  with  you  a  week,  and  see  how  the  perch  bite  in  the 
Black  River.  I  observed  with  some  concern,  the  last  time 
I  saw  you  upon  the  bowling-green,  that  your  whip  wanted 
a  lash  to  it;  I  will  bring  half  a  dozen  with  me  that  I 
twisted  last  week,  which  I  hope  will  serve  you  all  the 
time  you  are  in  the  country.  I  have  not  been  out  of 
the  saddle  for  six  days  last  past,  having  been  at  Eaton 

'  This  character,  like  many  others  in  the  Spectator,  has  been 
referred  to  a  supposed  original,  a  ^Ir.  Thomas  Morecroft,  who  once 
received  pecuniary  aid  from  Addison.  But  such  "  speculations " 
have  alrea<ly  been  answered.  See  note  1,  p.  14.  A  reading  of  Tatler 
No.  256  will  show  that  Will  "Wimble  is  only  Mr.  Thomas  Gules 
retouched — a  gentleman  who  was  "the  cadet  of  a  very  ancient 
family,"  who  "had  chosen  rather  to  starve,  like  a  man  of  honor,  than 
dn  anything  hfineath  his  quality";  who  '"had  neveremployed  himself 
l)oyond  tlie  twisting  of  a  whip  .  .  .  iu  order  to  make  a  present 
now  and  then  to  his  friends."' 


WILL    WIMBLE  41 

with   Sir  John's  eldest  son.       He  takes  to   his   learning 
hugely.  1 

''  I  am^  sir,  your  humble  servant, 

••  Will  Wimble." 

This  extraordinary  ^  letter,  and  message  that  accom- 
panied it,  made  me  veiy  cnrions  to  know  the  character 
and  quality  of  the  gentleman  who  sent  them,  which  I 
found  to  be  as  follows.  Will  Wimble  ^  is  younger  brother 
to  a  baronet,  and  descended  of  the  ancient  family  of  the 
Wimbles.  He  is  now  between  forty  and  fifty,  but,  being 
bred  to  no  business  and  born  to  no  estate,  he  generally  lives 
with  his  elder  brother  as  superintendent  of  his  game.  He 
hunts  *  a  pack  of  dogs  better  than  any  man  in  the  country, 
and  is  very  famous  for  finding  out  a  hare.  He  is  extremely 
well  versed  in  all  the  little  handicrafts  of  an  idle  man;  he 
makes  a  may-fly  ^  to  a  miracle,  and  furnishes  the  whole 
country  with  angle-rods.  As  he  is  a  good-natured,  offi- 
cious fellow,  and  very  much  esteemed  upon  account  of  his 
family,  he  is  a  welcome  guest  at  every  house,  and  keeps  up 
a  good  correspondence  among  all  the  gentlemen  about 
him.  He  carries  a  tulip-root  ^  in  his  pocket  from  one  to 
another,  or  exchanges  a  pu})py  between  a  couple  of  friends 
that  live  perhaps  in  the  opposite  sides  of  the  county. 
Will  is  a  particular  favorite  of  all  the  young  heirs,  whom 
he  frequently  obliges  with  a  net  that  he  has  weaved,  or 
a  setting-dog  that  he  has  made ''  himself.  He  now  and 
then  presents  a  pair  of  garters  of  his  own  knitting  to  their 
mothers  or  sisters,  and  raises  a  great  deal  of  mirth  among 
them  by  inquiring,  as  often  as  he  meets  them,  Ilow  tliey 
wear.  These  gentleman-like  ^  manufactures  and  obliging 
little  humors  make  Will  the  darling  ^  of  the  country. 

*  Is  Will  joking?    °  Point  out  what  is  "  extraordinary." 

'  Can  the  name  signify  a  small-bore?     If  so,  what  is  the  pun? 
■*  Supply  "with."     '■'  For  fishing. 

*  Was  this  before  or  after  the  famous  tulip  mania?  Consult  eney- 
clopiPdias.  ■'  Instructed.  "  Characterize  this  epithet. 

"  Why  is  this  more  expressive  i\vA\\  favorite? 


42  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVERLET 

Sir  Roger  was  proceeding  in  the  character  of  him,^ 
when  he  saw  liim  make  up  to  us  with  two  or  three  hazel- 
twigs  in  his  hand  that  he  had  cut  in  Sir  Roger's  woods,  as 
he  came  through  them,  in  his  way  to  the  house.  I  was 
very  mucli  pleased  to  observe  on  one  side  the  hearty  and 
sincere  welcome  with  which  Sir  Roger  received  him,  and 
on  the  other,  the  secret  joy  which  his  guest  discovered 
at  sight  of  the  good  old  knight.  After  the  first  salutes 
were  over,  "Will  desired  Sir  Roger  to  lend  him  one  of  his 
servants  to  carry  a  set  of  shuttlecocks  he  had  with  him  in 
a  little  box  to  a  lady  that  lived  about  a  mile  off,  to  whom 
it  seems  he  had  promised  such  a  present  for  above  this 
half  year.3  Sir  Roger's  back  was  no  sooner  turned  but 
honest  Will  began  to  tell  me  of  a  large  cock-pheasant  that 
he  had  sprung  in  one  of  the  neighboring  woods,  with  two 
or  three  other  adventures  of  the  same  nature.  Odd  and 
uncommon  characters  are  the  game  that  I  look  for  and  most 
delight  in;  for  which  reason  I  was  as  much  pleased  with 
t]ie  novelty  of  the  person  that  talked  to  me  as  he  could  be 
for  his  life  witli  the  springing  of  a  pheasant,  and  there- 
fore listened  to  him  with  more  than  ordinary  attention.* 

In  the  midst  of  his  discourse  tlie  bell  rung  to  dinner, 
where  the  gentleman  I  have  been  speaking  of  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  the  huge  jack  he  had  caught,  served  up 
for  the  first  dish  in  a  most  sumptuous  manner.  Upon  our 
sitting  down  to  it  he  gave  us  a  long  account  how  he  had 
hooked  it,  played  with  it,  foiled  it,  and  at  length  drew  it 
out  upon  tlie  bank,  with  several  other  particulars  that 
lasted  all  the  first  course.  A  dish  of  wild  fowl  that  came 
afterwards  furnished  conversation  for  the  rest  of  the  dinner, 
which  concluded  Avith  a  late  invention  of  Will's  for  im- 
proving the  quail-pipe.^ 

*  Describing  the  character  of.     "  Will. 

'  Note  the  appropriateness  of  the  motto  at  the  beginning  of  this 
paper. 

*  In  other  words  the  Spectator  makes  game  of  Will. 

*  Thus  Will  proves  himself  a  wimble. 


WILL    WIMBLE  43 

Upon  withdrawing  into  my  room  jifter  dinner,  I  was 
secretly  touched  ^  witli  compassion  towards  the  honest 
gentleman  that  had  dined  with  us.  and  could  not  but  con- 
sider, with  a  great  deal  of  concern,  how  so  good  an  heart 
and  such  busy  hands  Avere  wholly  cn^ployed  in  trifles;  that 
BO  much  humanity  should  be  so  little  beneficial  to  others, 
and  so  much  industry  so  little  advantageous  to  himself. 
The  same  temper  of  mind  and  application  to  affairs  "-^  might 
have  recommended  him  to  the  ])ublic  esteem,  and  have 
raised  his  fortune  in  another  station  of  life.  What  good 
to  his  country  or  himself  might  not  a  trader  or  merchant 
have  done  with  such  useful  though  ordinary  qualifications  ? 

Will  W^imble's  is  the  case  of  many  a  younger  brother  of  a 
great  family,  who  had  rather  see  their  children  starve  like 
gentlemen  than  thrive  in  a  trade  or  profession  that  is 
beneath  their  quality.^  This  humor  ^  fills  several  parts  of 
Europe  with  pride  and  beggary.  It  is  the  happiness  of  a 
trading  nation,  like  otirs.  that  the  younger  sons,  though 
nncapable  of  any  liberal  art  or  profession,  may  be  placed  in 
such  a  way  of  life  as  may  perhaps  enable  them  to  vie  wim 
the  best  of  their  family.  Accordingly,  we  find  several  citi- 
zens that  were  launched  into  the  world  with  narrow  for- 
tunes, rising  by  an  honest  industry  to  greater  estates  than 
those  of  their  elder  brothers.  It  is  not  improbable  but 
Will  was  formerly  tried  at  divinity,  law,  or  physic;  and 
that,  finding  his  genius  did  not  lie  that  way,  his  parents 
gave  him  up  at  length  to  his  own  inventions.  But  cer- 
tainly, however  improper  he  might  have  been  for  studies 
of  a  higher  nature,  he  was  perfectly  well  turned  for  the 
occupations  of  trade  and  commerce.  As  I  think  this  is  a 
point  which  cannot  be  too  much  inculcated,  I  shall  desire 
my  reader  to  compare  what  I  have  here  written,  with  what 
I  have  said  in  my  twenty-first  speculation.^  L. 

'  Note  how  Addison  passes  aguin  from  satire  to  seriousness. 

^  Business.     — . 

'  Cf.  notef,  p.  40.     *  Cf.  note  1,  p.  33. 

*  Be  sure  to  read  this  paper. 


44  SIB  BOQER  DE  COVERLET 

IX. 

THE  COVERLET   ANCESTRY. 

[Spectator  No.  109,      Thursday,  July  5,  1711.     Steele.] 

Abnormis  sapiens. 

Horace. 

I  WAS  this  morning  walking  in  the  gallery,^  when  Sir 
Roger  entered  at  the  end  opposite  to  me,  and,  advancing 
towards  me,  said  he  was  glad  to  meet  me  among  his  rela- 
tions, the  de  Coverleys,  and  hoped  I  liked  the  conversation 
of  so  mnch  good  company,  who  wfere  as  silent  as  myself. 
I  knew  he  alluded  to  the  pictures;  and,  as  he  is  a  gentle- 
man who  does  not  a  little  value  himself  upon  his  ancient 
descent,  I  expected  he  would  give  me  some  account  of 
them.*  "We  were  now  arrived  at  the  upper  end  of  the  gal- 
lery, when  the  knight  faced  towards  one  of  the  pictures, 
and,  as  we  stood  before  it,  he  entered  into  the  matter, 
after  his  blunt  way  of  saying  things  as  they  occur  to  his 
imagination,  without  regular  introduction  or  care  to  pre- 
serve the  appearance  of  chain  of  thought. 

*'  It  is,"  said  he,  "  worth  while  to  consider  the  force  of 
dress,  and  how  the  persons  of  one  age  differ  from  those  of 
another  merely  by  that  only.  One  may  observe,  also,  that 
the  general  fashion  of  one  age  has  been  followed  by  one 
particular  set  of  people  in  another,  and  by  them  preserved 
from  one  generation  to  another.  Thus,  the  vast  jetting 
coat  and  small  bonnet,  which  was  the  habit  in  Harry  the 
Seventh's  time,  is  kept  on  in  the  yeomen  of  the  guard; 
not  without  a  good  and  politic  view,  because  they  look  a 
foot  taller,  and  a  foot  and  a  half  broader;  besides  that  the 

■  Picture-gallery. 

'  Note  that  the  Spectator  makes  no  reply. 


THE  COVER  LEY  ANCESTRY  45 

cap  leaves  the  face  expauded,  and  consequently  more  ter- 
rible, and  fitter  to  stand  at  the  entrance  of  palaces. 

"  This  predecessor  of  ours,  you  see,  is  dressed  after  this 
manTier,  and  his  cheeks  would  be  no  larger  than  mine, 
were  he  in  a  hat  as  I  am.  He  was  the  last  man  that  won 
a  prize  in  the  Tilt  Yard  (which  is  now  a  common  street 
before  Whitehall).  You  see  the  broken  lance  that  lies 
there  by  his  right  foot:  he  shivered  tliat  lance  of  his  adver- 
sary all  to  pieces;  and,  bearing  himself, — look  you,  sir, — 
in  this  manner,  at  the  same  time  he  came  within  the  tar- 
get of  the  gentleman  who  rode  against  him,  and  taking 
him  with  incredible  force  before  him  on  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle,  he  in  that  manner  rid  the  tournament  over,  with 
an  air  that  showed  he  did  it  rather  to  perform  the  rule  of 
the  lists  than  expose  his  enemy;  however,  it  appeared  he 
knew  how  to  make  use  of  a  victory,  and,  with  a  gentle 
trot,  he  marched  up  to  a  gallery  where  their  mistress  sat 
(for  they  were  rivals)  and  let  him  down  with  laudable 
courtesy  and  pardonable  insolence.  I  don't  know  but  it 
might  be  exactly  where  the  coffee-house  ^  is  now. 

"  You  are  to  know  this  my  ancestor  was  not  only  of  a 
military  genius,  but  fit  also  for  the  arts  of  peace,  for  he 
played  on  the  bass-viol  as  well  as  any  gentleman  at  court; 
you  see  where  his  viol  hangs  by  his  basket-hilt  sword. 
The  action  at  the  Tilt  Yai"d  you  may  be  sure  won  the 
fair  lady,  who  was  a  maid  of  honor,  and  the  greatest  beauty 
of  her  time;  here  she  stands,  the  next  picture.  You  see, 
sir,  my  great-great-great-grandmother  has  on  the  new- 
fashioned  petticoat,  except  that  the  modern  is  gathered  at 
the  waist;  my  grandmother  appears  as  if  she  stood  in  a 
large  drum,  whereas  the  ladies  now  walk  as  if  they  were 
in  a  go-cart.^  For  all  this  lady  was  bred  at  court,  she 
became  an  excellent  country  wife;  she  brought^  ten  chil- 
dren, and,  when  I  show  you  the  library,  you  shall  see,  in 

'  Jenny:  Man's  "  Tilt-yard  Coffee-house";  now  the  site  of  the  Pay- 
master-General's office. — MORLEY. 
*  More  abnormal  wisdom .    '  Bore. 


46  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVERLEY 

her  own  hand  (allowing  for  the  difference  of  the  language), 
the  best  receipt  now  in  England  both  for  an  hasty-pudding 
and  a  white-pot.  ^ 

"  If  you  please  to  fall  back  a  little — because  'tis  neces- 
sary to  look  at  the  three  next  pictures  at  one  view — these 
are  three  sisters.  She  on  the  right  hand,  who  is  so  very 
beautiful,  died  a  maid;  the  next  to  her,  still  handsomer, 
had  the  same  fate,  against  her  will;  this  homely  thing 
in  the  middle  had  both  their  portions  added  to  her  own, 
and  was  stolen  by  a  neighboring  gentleman,  a  man  of 
stratagem  and  resolution,  for  he  poisoned  three  mastiffs 
to  come  at  her,  and  knocked  down  two  deer-stealers 
in  carrying  her  off.  Misfortunes  happen  in  all  fam- 
ilies. The  theft  of  this  romp  and  so  much  money  was 
no  great  matter  to  our  estate.  But  the  next  heir  that 
possessed  it  was  this  soft  gentleman,  whom  you  see  there; 
observe  the  small  buttons,  tlie  little  boots,  the  laces,  the 
slashes  about  his  clothes,  and,  above  all,  the  posture  he  is 
drawn  in  (which  to  be  sure  was  his  own  choosing);  you 
see  he  sits  with  one  hand  on  a  desk,  writing  and  looi\ing 
as  it  were  another  Avay,  like  an  easy  writer  or  a  sonneteer. 
He  Vv-as  one  of  those  that  had  too  much  wit  to  know  how  to 
live  in  the  world;  ho  was  a  man  of  no  justice,  but  great 
good  manners;  he  ruined  everybody  that  had  anything  to 
do  with  him,  but  never  said  a  rude  thing  in  his  life;  the 
most  indolent  person  in  the  world,  he  would  sign  a  deed 
that  passed  away  half  his  estate,  with  his  gloves  on,  but 
would  not  put  on  his  hat  before  a  lady  if  it  were  to  save 
his  country.  He  is  said  to  be  the  first  that  made  love  by 
squeezing  the  hand.  He  le^'t  the  estate  with  ten  thousand 
pounds' debt  upon  it;  but,  however,  by  all  hands  I  have 
been  informed  that  he  was  every  way  the  finest  gentleman 
in  the  world. ^  That  debt  lay  heavy  on  our  house  for  one 
generation;  but  it  was  retrieved  by  a  gift  from  that  hon- 
est man  you  see  there,  a  citizen  of  our  name,  but  nothing 

■  A  kind  of  custard.  '  Cf.  note  1,  p.  13. 


THE  COVEliLEY  AycESTRV  ^7 

at  all  akin  to  us.  I  know  Sir  Andrew  Freeport  has  said 
behind  my  back  ^  that  tliis  man  was  descended  from  one 
of  tlie  ten  children  of  the  maid  of  honor  I  showed  you 
above;  but  it  was  never  made  out.  We  winked  at  the 
thing,  indeed,  because  money  was  wanting  at  that  time.'^ 

Here  I  saw  my  friend  a  little  embarrassed,  and  turned 
my  face  ^  to  the  next  portraiture. 

Sir  Roger  went  on  with  his  account  of  the  gallery  in 
the  following  manner:  ''This  man"  (pointing  to  him 
I  looked  at)  "I  take  to  be  the  honor  of  our  house,  Sir 
Humphrey  de  Coverley;  he  was,  in  his  dealings,  as  punc- 
tual as  a  ti'adesman  and  as  generous  as  a  gentleman.  He 
would  have  thought  himself  as  much  undone  by  breaking 
his  word  as  if  it  were  to  be  followed  by  bankruptcy.  He 
served  his  country  as  knight  of  this  shire  to  his  dying  day. 
He  found  it  no  easy  matter  to  maintain  an  integrity  in  his 
words  and  actions,  even  in  things  that  regarded  the  offices 
which  were  incumbent  upon  him,  in  the  care  of  his  own 
affairs  and  relations  of  life,  and  therefore  dreaded  (though 
he  had  great  talents)  to  go  into  employments  of  state, 
where  he  must  be  exposed  to  the  snares  of  ambition. 
Innocence  of  life  and  great  ability  were  the  distinguishing 
parts  of  his  character;  the  latter,  he  had  often  observed, 
had  led  to  the  destruction  of  the  former,  and  used  fre- 
quently to  lament  that  great  and  good  had  not  the  same 
signification.  He  was  an  excellent  husbandman,  but  had 
resolved  not  to  exceed  such  a  ^  degree  of  wealth ;  all  above 
it  he  bestowed  in  secret  bounties  many  years  after  the  sum 
he  aimed  at  for  his  own  use  was  attained.  Yet  he  did  not 
slacken  his  industry,  but  to  a  decent  old  age  sj^ent  the  life 
and  fortune  which  was  superfluous  to  himself,  in  the  ser- 
vice of  his  friends  and  neighbors." 

Here  we  were  called  to  dinner,  and  Sir  Roger  ended  the 
discourse  of*  this  gentleman  by  telling  me,  as  we  followed 

'  Later  he  said  it  to  his  face  (p.  137). 

*  Delicacy  and  tact  are  as  cliaracteristic  of  the  Spectator  as  silence. 

'  A  certain.  *  Concerning. 


48  SIR  ROGER  BE  CQVERLEY 

the  servant,  that  this  his  ancestor  was  a  brave  man,  and 
narrowly  escaped  being  killed  in  the  Civil  Wars;  "for," 
said  he,  "  he  was  sent  ont  of  the  field  npon  a  private  mes- 
sage the  day  before  the  battle  of  Worcester." 

The  whim  of  narrowly  escaping  by  having  been  within  a 
day  of  danger,  with  other  matters  above  mentioned,  mixed 
with  good  sense,  left  me  at  a  loss  whether  I  was  more 
delighted  with  ^  my  friend's  wisdom  or  simplicity. 

R. 

'A  kind  of  zeugma;  he  was  "delighted  with"  his  wisdom  but 
amused  at  his  simplicity. 


THE  COVERLEY  GHOST  49 

X. 

THE    COVEELEY    GHOST. 
[Spectator  No.  110.     Friday,  July  6.  1711.     Addison.'] 

Horror  ubique  animos,  simul  ipsa  silentia  terrent. 

Virgil. 

At  a  little  distance  from  Sir  Eoger's  house,  among  the 
ruins  of  an  old  abbey,  there  is  a  long  walk  of  aged  elms, 
which  are  shot  up  so  very  high  that,  when  one  passes 
under  them,  the  rooks  and  crows  that  rest  upon  the  tops 
of  them  seem  to  be  cawing  in  another  region.  I  am  very 
much  delighted  with  this  sort  of  noise,  which  I  consider 
as  a  kind  of  natural  prayer  to  that  Beiug  who  supplies 
the  wants  of  His  whole  creation,  and  who,  in  the  beauti- 
ful language  of  the  Psalms/  feedeth  the  young  ravens 
that  call  upon  Him.  I  like  this  retirement  the  better, 
because  of  an  ill  report  it  lies  under  of  being  haunted ;  for 
which  reason  (as  I  have  been  told  in  the  family)  no  living 
creature  ever  walks  in  it  besides  the  chaplain.  My  good 
friend,  the  butler,  desired  me,  with  a  very  grave  face,  not 
to  venture  myself  in  it  after  sunset,  for  that  one  of  the 
footmen  had  been  almost  frighted  out  of  his  wits  by  a 
spirit  that  appeared  to  him  in  the  shape  of  a  black  horse 
without  an  head ;  to  which  he  added,  that  about  a  month 
ago  one  of  the  maids  coming  home  late  that  way,  with  a 
pail  of  milk  upon  her  head,  heard  such  a  rustling  among 
the  bushes  that  she  let  it  fall. 

I  was  taking  a  walk  in  this  place  last  night,  between  the 
hours  of  nine  and  ten,  and  could  not  but  fancy  it  one  of 
the  most  proper  scenes  ^  in  the  world  for  a  ghost  to  appear 
in.     The  ruins  of  the  abbey  are  scattered  up  and  down  on 

'  Find  the  Scriptural  allusion  by  means  of  a  concordance. 
*  Appropriate  places. 


50  '"^lii  liOGER  DE  COVEliLEY 

every  side,  and  half  covered  witli  ivy  and  elder  bushes,  the 
harbors  of  several  solitary  birds,  which  seldom  make  their 
appearance  till  the  dusk  of  the  evening.  The  place  was 
formerly  a  church-yard,  and  has  still  several  marks  in  it 
of  graves  and  burying-places.  There  is  such  an  echo 
among  the  old  ruins  and  vaults  that,  if  you  stamp  but  a 
little  louder  than  ordinary,  you  hear  the  sound  repeated. 
At  the  same  time  the  walk  of  elms,  with  the  croaking 
of  the  ravens,  which  from  time  to  time  are  heard  from 
the  tops  of  them,  looks  exceeding  solemn  and  venerable. 
These  objects  naturally  raise  seriousness  and  attention; 
and  when  night  heigiitens  the  awf  ulness  of  the  place,  and 
pours  out  her  supernumerary  horrors  upon  everything  in 
it,  I  do  not  at  all  wonder  that  weak  minds  till  it  with 
spectres  and  apparitions. 

Mr.  Locke,*  in  his  chapter  of  the  Association  of  Ideas, 
has  very  curious  remarks  to  show  how,  by  the  prejudice  of 
education,  one  idea  often  introduces  into  the  mind  a  whole 
set  that  bear  no  resemblance  to  one  another  in  the  nature 
of  things.  Among  several  examples  of  this  kind,  he  pro- 
duces the  following  instance:  '"  The  ideas  of  goblins  and 
sprites  have  really  no  more  to  do  with  darkness  than 
light;  yet,  let  but  a  foolish  maid  inculcate  these '^  often  on 
the  mind  of  a  child,  and  raise  them  there  together,  pos- 
sibly he  *  shall  never  be  able  to  separate  them  again  so  long 
as  he  lives,  but  darkness  shall  ever  afterwards  bring  with 
it  those  frightful  ideas,  and  they  shall  be  so  joined  that  he 
can  no  more  bear  the  one  than  the  other."  * 

As  I  was  walking  in  this  solitude,  where  the  dusk  of  the 
evening  conspired  witli  so  many  other  occasions  of  terror,  I 
observed  a  cow  grazing  not  far  from  me,  which  an  imagi- 
nation that  is  apt  to  startle  might  easily  have  constiaied 
into  a  black  horse  without  an  head ;  and  I  dare  say  the  poor 
footman  lost  his  wits  upon  some  such  trivial  occasion. 

'  Locke  was  apparently  a  great  favorite  with  Addison. 

'  The  ideas  of  goblins  and  darkness.     ^  Tlie  child. 

*  Essay  on  the  Human  Understand ing.  bk.  ii..  ch.  33,  ^  10. 


THE   (U)VERLF.Y  (I HOST  51 

My  friend  Sir  Roger  has  often  told  me,  with  a  great  deal 
of  mirth,  that  at  his  first  coming  to  liis  estate,  he  found 
three  parts  of  liis  house  altogether  useless;  that  the  best 
room  in  it  had  the  reputation  of  being  haunted,  and  by 
that  means  was  locked  up;  that  noises  had  been  heard  in 
his  long  gallery,  so  that  he  could  not  get  a  servant  to  enter 
it  after  eight  o'clock  at  night;  that  tlie  door  of  one  of  his 
chambers  was  nailed  up,  because  there  went  a  story  in  the 
family  that  a  butler  had  formerly  hanged  himself  in  it; 
and  that  his  mother,  who  lived  to  a  great  age,  had  shut  up 
half  the  rooms  in  the  house,  in  which  either  her  husband,  a 
son,  or  daughter  had  died.  The  knight,  seeing  his  habita- 
tion reduced  to  so  small  a  compass,  and  himself  in  a  man- 
ner shut  out  of  his  own  house,  upon  the  death  of  his 
mother  ordered  all  the  apartments  to  be  flung  open  and 
exorcised  by  his  chaplain,  who  lay  in  every  room  one  after 
another,  and  by  that  means  dissipated  the  fears  which  had 
so  long  reigned  in  the  family. 

I  should  not  have  been  thus  particular  upon  these  ridicu- 
lous horrors,  did  not  I  find  them  so  very  much  prevail  in 
all  parts  of  the  country.  At  the  same  time,  I  think  a  per- 
son wiio  is  thus  terrified  with  the  imagination  of  ghosts 
and  spectres  much  more  reasonable  than  one  who,  contrary 
to  the  reports  of  all  historians,  sacred  and  profane,  ancient 
and  modern,  and  to  the  traditions  of  all  nations,  thinks  the 
appearance  of  spirits  fabulous  and  groundless;  could  not  I 
give  myself  up  to  this  general  testimony  of  mankind,  I 
should  to  ^  the  relations  of  particular  persons  who  are  now 
living,  and  whom  I  cannot  distrust  in  other  matters  of  fact. 
I  might  here  add,  that  not  only  the  historians,  to  whom 
we  may  join  the  poets,  but  likewise  the  philosophers  of 
antiquity  have  favored  this  opinion.  Lucretius  himself, 
though  by  the  course  of  his  philosophy  he  was  obliged  to 
maintain  that  the  soul  did  not  exist  separate  from  the 
body,  makes  no  doubt  of  the  reality  of  apparitions,  and 

'  Should  give  myself  up  to  ;  /.  e.,  believe. 


52  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

that  men  have  often  appeared  after  their  death.  This  I 
think  very  remarkable;  he  was  so  pressed  with  the  matter 
of  fact  which  he  could  not  have  the  confidence  to  deny, 
that  he  was  forced  to  account  for  it  by  one  of  the  most 
absurd  unphilosophical  notions  that  was  ever  started.  He 
tells  us  that  the  surfaces  of  all  bodies  are  perpetually  flying 
off  from  their  respective  bodies  one  after  another,  and  that 
these  surfaces  or  thin  cases  that  included  each  other, 
whilst  they  were  joined  in  the  body,  like  the  coats  of  an 
onion,  are  sometimes  seen  entire  when  they  are  separated 
from  it;  by  which  means  we  often  behold  the  shapes  and 
shadows  of  persons  who  are  either  dead  or  absent.^ 

I  shall  dismiss  this  paper  with  a  story  out  of  Josephus, 
not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the  story  itself  as  for  the  moral 
reflections  with  which  the  author  concludes  it,  and  which 
I  shall  here  set  down  in  his  own  words : 

"  Glaphyra,  the  daughter  of  King  Archelaus,  after  the 
death  of  her  two  first  ^  husbands  (being  married  to  a  third, 
who  was  brother  to  her  first  husband,  and  so  passionately 
in  love  with  her  that  he  turned  off  his  former  wife  to 
make  room  for  this  marriage)  had  a  very  odd  kind  of 
dream.     She  fancied  that  she  saw  her  first  husband  coming 

'  Nunc  agere  incipiam  tibi  (quod  vehementer  ad  has  res 
Attinet)  esse  ea,  quae  rerum  simulacra  vocamus, 
Quae  quasi  membranae,  sum  mo  de  corpore  rerum 
Dereptae,  A'olitant  ultro  citroque  per  auras; 
Atque  eadem  nobis  vigilantibus  obvia  raentes 
Terrificant,  atque  in  somnis,  cum  saepe  figuras 
Contuimur  miras,  simulacraque  luce  carentum 
Quae  nos  horrifiee  languentes  saepe  sopore 
Excierunt;  ne  forte  animas  Acherunte  reamur 
Effugere,  aut  umbras  inter  vivos  volitare, — 
Neve  aliquid  nostri  post  mortem  posse  relinqui, 
Cum  corpus  simul,  atque  animi  natura  perempta, 
In  sua  discessum  dederint  primordia  quaeque. 

Dieo  igitur,  rerum  effigias  ienMQsqne  figuras 
Mittier  ab  rebus,  summo  de  corpore  earum, 
Quae  quasi  membrana,  vel  cortex,  nominitanda  est, 
Quod  speciem  ac  formam  similem  gerit  eius  imago, 
Quoiuscunque  cluet  de  corpora  f usa  vagari. 

Lucretius,  De  Rerum  Natura,  iv.,  33-50. 
•  Arrange  in  better  order. 


THE  COVE  RLE  Y  GHOST  53 

towards  her,  and  that  she  embraced  him  with  great  ten- 
derness; when  in  the  midst  of  the  pleasure  which  she  ex- 
pressed at  the  sight  of  him^,  he  reproached  lier  after  the 
foilowing  manner: 

"  '  Glaphyra, '  says  he,  '  tliou  hast  made  good  the  old 
saying  that  women  are  not  to  be  trusted.  AYas  not  I  the 
husband  of  thy  virginity  ?  Have  I  not  children  by  thee  ? 
How  couldst  thou  forget  our  loves  so  far  as  to  enter  into  a 
second  marriage,  and  after  that  into  a  third?  .  .  .  How- 
ever, for  the  sake  of  our  past  loves  I  shall  free  thee  from 
thy  present  reproach,  and  make  thee  mine  for  ever.' 

"  Glaphyra  told  this  dream  to  several  women  of  her 
acquaintance,  and  died  soon  after. 

"  I  thought  this  story  might  not  be  impertinent  in  this 
place  wherein  I  speak  of  those  kings. ^  Besides  that,  the 
example  deserves  to  be  taken  notice  of,  as  it  contains  a 
most  certain  proof  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  of 
divine  providence.  If  any  man  thinks  these  facts  incred- 
ible, let  him  enjoy  his  own  opinion  to  himself,  but  let  him 
not  endeavor  to  disturb  the  belief  of  others,  who  by  in- 
stances of  this  nature  are  excited  to  the  study  of  virtue." ^ 

L. 

'  Josephus  had  been  speaking  of  at  least  four  kings:  Arehelaus, 
king  of  Cappadocia,  GlHphyra's  father;  Herod  the  Great,  father  of 
Glaphyra's  first  husband,  Alexander  (whom  Herod  put  to  death); 
Juba,  king  of  Libya,  Glaphyra's  second  husband ;  and  Arehelaus, 
her  third  husband,  brother  of  Alexander  and  "  ethnarch  "  over  half 
his  father's  kingdom. 

'  This  story  is  in  Josephus's  Antiquities  of  the  Jews,  book  xvii., 
ch.  13. 


54  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 


XI. 


A   COUNTRY   SUNDAY. 

[Spectator  No.  \\2,.     Monday,  July  9,  1711.     Addison.] 

^ABavarov?  uiv  itpoora  6eov5,  v6iia>  aJs  dtdxetrat, 
Ti/.ia. 

Pythagoeas. 

I  AM  always  very  well  pleased  Avith  a  country  Sunday,  and 
think,  if  keeping  holy  the  seventh  day  were  only  a  human 
institution,  it  would  be  the  best  method  that  could  have 
been  thought  of  for  the  polishing  and  civilizing  of  man- 
kind. It  is  certain  the  country  people  would  soon  degen- 
erate into  a  kind  of  savages  and  barbarians  were  there  not 
such  frequent  returns  of  a  stated  time,  in  which  the  whole 
village  meet  together  with  their  best  faces,  and  in  their 
cleanliest  habits,  to  converse  with  one  another  upon  indif- 
ferent subjects,  hear  their  duties  explained  to  them,  and 
join  together  in  adoration  of  the  Supreme  Being.  Sunday 
clears  away  the  rust  of  the  whole  week,  not  only  as  it 
refreshes  in  their  minds  the  notions  of  religion,  but  as  it 
puts  both  the  sexes  upon  appearing  in  their  most  agreeable 
forms,  and  exerting  all  such  qualities  as  are  apt  to  give 
them  a  figure  in  the  eye  of  the  village.  A  country  fellow 
distinguishes  himself  as  much  in  the  church-yard  as  a  citi- 
zen does  upon  the  'Change,  the  whole  parish  politics  being 
generally  discussed  in  that  place,  either  after  sermon  or 
before  the  bell  rings. 

My  friend  Sir  Eoger,  being  a  good  churchman,  has 
beautified  the  inside  of  his  church  with  several  texts  of  his 
own  choosing;  he  has  likewise  given  a  handsome  pulpit 
cloth,  and  railed  in  the  communion  table  at  his  own  ex- 
pense. He  has  often  told  me  that,  at  his  coming  to  his 
estate,  he  found  his  parishioners  very  irreguhir;  and  that. 


A   ('OCX Tin'  SiWDAY  55 

in  order  to  make  them  kueel  and  join  in  the  responses, 
he  gave  every  one  of  them  a  hassock  and  a  Common-Prayer- 
Book,  and  at  the  same  time  emj)loyed  an  itinerant  singing- 
master,  who  goes  about  the  country  for  that  purpose,  to 
instruct  them  rightly  in  the  tunes  of  the  Psalms;  upon 
which  they  now  very  much  value  themselves,  and  indeed 
outdo  ^  most  of  the  country  churches  that  I  have  ever 
heard. 

As  Sir  Eoger  is  landlord  to  the  whole  congregation,  he 
keeps  them  in  very  good  order,  and  will  suffer  nobody  to 
Bleep  in  it  besides  himself;  for,  if  by  chance  he  has  been  sur- 
prised into  a  short  nap  at  sermon,  upon  recovering  out  of  it 
he  stands  up  and  looks  about  him,  and,  if  he  sees  anybody 
else  nodding,  either  wakes  them  himself,  or  sends  his  ser- 
vant to  them.  Several  other  of  the  old  knight's  particular- 
ities ^  break  out  upon  these  occasions;  sometimes  he  will 
be  lengthening  out  a  verse  in  the  singing  Psalms  half  a 
minute  after  the  rest  of  the  congregation  have  done  with 
it;  sometimes,  when  he  is  pleased  with  the  matter  of  his 
devotion,  he  pronounces  '"  Amen  "  three  or  four  times  to 
the  same  prayer;  and  sometimes  stands  up  when  every- 
body else  is  upon  their  ^  knees,  to  count  the  congregation, 
or  see  if  any  of  his  tenants  are  missing. 

I  was  yesterday  very  much  surprised  to  hear  my  old 
friend,  in  the  midst  of  the  service,  calling  out  to  one  John 
Matthews  to  mind  what  he  was  about,  and  not  disturb 
the  congregation.  This  John  MatthcAvs,  it  seems,  is  re- 
markable for  being  an  idle  fellow,  and  at  that  time  was 
kicking  his  heels  for  his  diversion.  This  authority  of  the 
knight,  though  exerted  in  that  odd  manner  which  accom- 
panies him  in  all  circumstances  of  life,  has  a  very  good 
effect  upon  the  parish,  who  are  not  polite  enough  to  see 
anything  ridiculous  in  his  behavior;  besides  that  the  gen- 
eral  good   sense   and  worthiness  of   his  character  makes 

'  A  sugjjestive  word,  indicative  of  volume. 

'  We  niigbt  say  humors. 

'  Why  is  this  not  in  accord  with  modern  grammatical  usage  ? 


86  SIE  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

his  friends  observe  these  little  singularities  as  foils  ^  that 
rather  set  off  than  blemish  his  good  qualities. 

As  soon  as  the  sermon  is  finished,  nobody  presumes  to 
stir  till  Sir  Roger  is  gone  out  of  the  church.  The  knight 
walks  down  from  his  seat  in  the  chancel  between  a  double 
row  of  his  tenants,  that  stand  bowing  to  him  on  each  side, 
and  every  now  and  then  inquires  how  such  an  one's  wife, 
or  mother,  or  son,  or  father  do,  whom  he  does  not  see  at 
church, — which  is  understood  as  a  secret  reprimand  to  the 
person  that  is  absent. 

The  chaplain  has  often  told  me  that,  upon  a  catechising 
day,  when  Sir  Roger  had  been  pleased  with  a  boy  that  an- 
swers well,  he  has  ordered  a  Bible  to  be  given  him  next 
day  for  his  encouragement,  and  sometimes  accompanies  it 
with  a  flitch  of  bacon  to  his  mother.  Sir  Roger  has  like- 
wise added  five  pounds  a  year  to  the  clerk's  place;  and, 
that  he  may  encourage  the  young  fellows  to  make  them- 
selves perfect  in  the  church  service,  has  promised,  upon 
the  death  of  the  present  incumbent,  who  is  very  old,  to 
bestow  it  according  to  merit. 

The  fair  understanding  between  Sir  Roger  and  his 
chaplain,  and  their  mutual  concurrence  in  doing  good, 
is  the  more  remarkable  because  the  very  next  village  is 
famous  for  the  differences  and  contentions  that  rise  be- 
tween the  parson  and  the  squire,  who  live  in  a  perpetual 
state  of  war.  The  parson  is  always  preaching  at  the 
squire,  and  the  squire,  to  be  revenged  on  the  parson,  never 
comes  to  church.  The  squire  has  made  all  his  tenants 
atheists  and  tithe  stealers  ;  ^  while  the  parson  instructs 
them  every  Sunday  in  the  dignity  of  his  order,  and  insinu- 
ates to  them  in  almost  every  sermon  that  he  is  a  better  man 
than  his  patron.  In  short,  matters  are  come  to  such  an 
extremity  that  the  squire  has  not  said  his  prayers  either 

'  Like  a  fine  lady's  patches.     Cf.  note  4,  p.  27. 

'  Tithes  in  England  are  a  sort  of  ecclesiastical  tax  upon  parishion- 
ers, allotted  to  the  clergy  for  their  living  ;  they  consist  of  a  tenth 
part  of  the  profits  made  upon  land  or  cattle. 


A   COUNTRY  SUNDAY  57 

in  public  or  private  this  half  year;  and  that  the  parson 
threatens  him,  if  he  does  not  mend  his  manners,  to  pray 
for  him  in  the  face  of  the  whole  congregation. ^ 

Feuds  of  this  nature,  though  too  frequent  in  the  coun- 
try, are  very  fatal  to  the  ordinary  people,  who  are  so  used 
to  be  dazzled  with  riches  that  they  pay  as  much  deference 
to  the  understanding  of  a  man  of  an  estate  as  of  a  man  of 
learning;  and  are  very  hardly  brought  to  regard  any  truth, 
how  important  soever  it  may  be,  that  is  preached  to  them, 
when  they  know  there  are  several  men  of  five  hundred  a 
year  who  do  not  believe  it.  L. 

'  It  is  doubtful  if  more  deliciously  absurd  paragraphs  were  ever 
penned.     Here  Addison's  humor  is  seen  at  its  best. 


58  SIB  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 


XII. 
SIR   ROGER   IX   LOVE. 

[Spectator  No.  113.     Tuesday,  July  10,  1711.     Steele.'] 

Haerent  infixi  pectore  vultus. 

Virgil. 

In  my  first  descrijition  of  the  company  in  which  I  pass 
most  of  my  time,  it  may  be  remembered  that  I  mentioned 
a  great  affliction  which  my  friend  Sir  Roger  had  met  with 
in  his  youth :  which  was  no  less  than  a  disajipointment  in 
love.^  It  happened  this  evening  that  we  fell  into  a  very 
pleasing  walk  at  a  distance  from  his  house :  as  soon  as  we 
came  into  it,  *'  It  is,"  quoth  the  good  old  man,  looking 
round  him  with  a  smile,  "  very  hard  that  any  part  of  my 
land  should  be  settled  upon  one  avIio  has  used  me  so  ill  as 
the  perverse  widow  ^  did ;  and  yet  I  am  sure  I  could  not 
see  a  sprig  of  any  bough  of  this  whole  walk  of  trees  but  I 
should  reflect  upon  her  and  her  severity.  She  has  cer- 
tainly the  finest  hand  of  any  woman  in  the  world. ^  You 
are  to  know  this  was  the  place  Avhereiii  I  used  to  muse  upon 
her;  and  by*  that  custom  I  can  never  come  into  it  but  the 
same  tender  sentiments  revive  in  my  mind,  as  if  I  had 
actually  walked  with  that  beautiful  creature  under  these 
shades.  I  have  been  fool  enough  to  carve  her  name  on  the 
bark  of  several  of  these  trees;  so  unhappy  is  the  condition 
of  men  in  love  to  attempt  the  removing  of  their  passion  by 

•  See  page  8. 

"  Speculators  have  suggested  that  a  Mrs.  Catherine  Boevey  was 
drawn  in  this  character.  She  was  a  widow,  was  doubtless  beautiful, 
and  perhaps  perverse;  but  probably  Addison  and  Steele  no  more 
intended  to  sketch  her  portrait  than  that  of  Queen  Anne,  who  at  this 
time  was  a  widow  and  perverse,  but  not  beautiful. 

'  Watch  for  a  repetition  of  this  inconsequent  remark. 

*  Because  of. 


SIB  ROGER  IX  LOVE  59 

the  methods  which  serve  only  to  imprint  it  deeper.  She 
has  certainly  the  finest  hand  of  any  woman  in  the  world." 

Here  followed  a  profound  silence;  and  I  was  not  dis- 
pleased to  ohserve  my  friend  falling  so  naturally  into  a 
discourse  which  I  had  ever  before  taken  notice  ho  industri- 
ously avoided.  After  a  very  long  pause  he  entered  upon 
an  account  of  this  great  circumstance  in  his  life,  with  an 
air  which  I  thought  raised  my  idea  of  him  above  what  I 
had  ever  had  before;  and  gave  me  the  picture  of  that 
cheerful  mind  of  his  before  it  received  that  stroke  which 
has  ever  since  affected  his  words  and  actions.  But  he  went 
on  as  follows : — 

"  I  came  to  my  estate  in  my  twenty-second  year,  and 
resolved  to  follow  the  steps  of  the  most  worthy  of  my  an- 
cestors who  have  inhabited  this  spot  of  earth  before  me, 
in  all  the  methods  of  hospitality  and  good  neighborhood, 
for  the  sake  of  my  fame,  and  in  country  sports  and  recrea- 
tions, for  the  sake  of  my  health.  In  my  twenty-third  year 
I  was  obliged  to  serve  as  sheriff  of  the  county;  and  in  my 
servants,  officers,  and  whole  equipage,  indulged  the  pleas- 
ure of  a  young  man  (who  did  not  think  ill  of  his  own  per- 
son) in  taking  that  public  occasion  of  showing  my  figure 
and  behavior  to  advantage.  You  may  easily  imagine  to 
yourself  what  appearance  I  made,  who  am  pretty  tall,  rid 
well,  and  was  very  well  dressed,  at  the  head  of  a  whole 
county,  with  music  before  me,  a  feather  in  my  hat,  and 
my  horse  well  bitted.  I  can  assure  you  I  was  not  a  little 
pleased  with  the  kind  looks  and  glances  I  had  from  all 
the  balconies  and  windows,  as  I  rode  to  the  hall  where  the 
assizes  ^  were  held.  But  when  I  came  there,  a  beautiful 
creature  in  a  widow's  habit  ^  sat  in  court,  to  hear  the  event 
of  a  cause  concerning  her  dower.  This  commanding  crea- 
ture (who  was  born  for  destruction  of  all  who  behold  her) 
put  on  such  a  resignation  in  her  countenance,  and  bore  the 

'  Periodical  sessions  of  the  judges  of  the  superior  courts  in  the 
various  counties  of  England. 
*  Garments. 


60  ^IR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

whispers  of  all  around  the  court  with  such  a  pretty  uneasi- 
ness, I  warrant  you,  and  then  recovered  herself  from  one 
eye  to  another,  till  she  was  perfectly  confused  by  meeting 
something  so  wistful  in  all  she  encountered,  that  at  last, 
with  a  murrain  to  ^  her,  she  cast  her  bewitching  eye  upon 
me.  I  no  sooner  met  it  but  I  bowed  like  a  great  surprised 
booby ;  and,  knowing  her  cause  to  be  the  first  which  came 
on,  I  cried,  like  a  captivated  calf  as  I  was,  '  Make  way  for 
the  defendant's  witnesses. '  This  sudden  partiality  made 
all  the  county  immediately  see  the  sheriff  also  was  become 
a  slave  to  the  fine  widow.  During  the  time  her  cause  was 
upon  trial,  she  behaved  herself,  I  warrant  you,  with  such  a 
deep  attention  to  her  business,  took  opportunities  to  have 
little  billets  handed  to  her  counsel,  then  would  be  in  such 
a  pretty  confusion,  occasioned,  you  must  know,  by  acting 
before  so  much  company,  that  not  only  I  but  the  whole 
court  was  prejudiced  in  her  favor;  and  all  that  the  next 
heir  to  her  husband  had  to  nrge  was  thought  so  groundless 
and  frivolous  that,  when  it  came  to  her  counsel  to  reply, 
there  was  not  half  so  much  said  as  ever}^  one  besides  in  the 
court  thought  lie  could  have  urged  to  her  advantage.  You 
must  understand,  sir,  this  perverse  woman  is  one  of  those 
unaccountable  creatures  that  secretly  rejoice  in  the  admi- 
ration of  men,  bnt  indulge  themselves  in  no  further  con- 
sequences. Hence  it  is  that  she  has  ever  had  a  train  of 
admirers,  and  she  removes  from  her  slaves  in  town  to  those 
in  the  country  according  to  the  seasons  of  the  year.  She 
is  a  reading  lady,^  and  far  gone  in  the  pleasures  of  friend- 
ship; she  is  always  accompanied  by  a  confidante,  who  is 
witness  to  her  daily  protestations  against  our  sex,  and  con- 
sequently a  bar  to  her  first  steps  towards  love,  upon  the 
strength  of  her  own  maxims  and  declarations. 

''  However,  I  must  needs  say  this  accomplished  mistress 
of  mine  has  distinguished  me  above  the  rest,  and  has  been 
known  to  declare  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Avas  the  tamest 

'  A  mild  imprecation,  like  "  confound  her."       '  See  note  4,  p.  33. 


SIR  ROGER  IX  LOVE  Gl 

and  most  human  of  all  the  brutes  in  the  country.  I  was 
told  she  said  so  by  one  who  thought  he  rallied  me;  but, 
upon  the  strength  of  this  slender  encouragement  of  being 
thought  least  detestable.  I  made  new  liveries,  new-paired 
my  coach-horses,  sent  them  all  to  town  to  be  bitted  and 
taught  to  throw  their  legs  well  and  move  all  together,  be- 
fore I  pretended  to  cross  the  country  and  wait  upon  her. 
As  soon  as  I  thought  my  retinue  suitable  to  the  character 
of  my  fortune  and  youth,  I  set  out  from  hence  to  make  my 
addresses.  The  particular  skill  of  this  lady  has  ever  been 
to  inflame  your  ^  wishes  and  yet  command  respect.  To 
make  her  mistress  of  this  art,  she  has  a  greater  share  of 
knowledge,  wit,  and  good  sense  than  is  usual  even  among 
men  of  merit.  Then  she  is  beautiful  beyond  the  race  of 
women.  If  you  ^  won't  let  her  go  on  with  a  certain  artifice 
with  her  eyes,  and  the  skill  of  beauty,  she  will  arm  herself 
with  her  real  charms,  and  strike  you  ^  with  admiration.  It  is 
certain  that,  if  you  were  to  behold  the  whole  woman,  there 
is  that  dignity  in  her  aspect,  that  composure  in  her  motion, 
that  complacency  in  her  manner,  that  if  her  form  makes 
you  ^  hope,  her  merit  makes  you  ^  fear.  But  then  again,  she 
is  such  a  desperate  scholar  -  that  no  country  gentleman  can 
approach  her  without  being  a  jest.  As  I  was  going  to  tell 
you,  when  I  came  to  her  house  I  was  admitted  to  her  pres- 
ence with  great  civility;  at  the  same  time  she  placed  her- 
self to  be  first  seen  by  me  in  such  an  attitude,  as  I  think 
you  call  the  posture  of  a  jiicture,  that  she  discovered  new 
cliarms,  and  I  at  last  came  towards  her  with  such  an  awe 
as  made  me  speechless.  This  she  no  sooner  observed  but 
she  made  her  advantage  of  it,  and  began  a  discourse  to  me 
concerning  love  and  honor,  as  they  both  are  followed  by  pre- 
tenders, and  the  real  votaries  to  them.  .  AYhen  she  had  dis- 
cussed these  points  in  a  discourse  which  I  verily  believe  was 
as  learned  as  the  best  philosopher  in  Europe  could  possibly 
make/  she  asked  me  whether  she  was  so  happy  as  to  fall 

'  The  colloquial  you  {your),  "  See  note  4,  p.  33. 


62  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

in  with  my  sentiments  on  these  important  particulars. 
Her  confidante  sat  by  her,  and,  upon  my  being  in  the  last 
confusion  and  silence,  this  malicious  aid  of  hers,  turning 
to  her,  says,  '  I  am  very  glad  to  observe  Sir  Roger  pauses 
upon  this  subject,  and  seems  resolved  to  deliver  all  his 
sentiments  upon  the  matter  when  he  pleases  to  speak.' 
They  both  kept  their  countenances,  and  after  I  had  sat 
half  an  hour  meditating  how  to  behave  before  such  pro- 
found casuists,  I  rose  up  and  took  my  leave.  Chance  has 
since  that  time  thrown  me  very  often  in  her  way,  and  she 
as  often  has  directed  a  discourse  to  me  which  I  do  not 
understand.  This  barbarity  has  kept  me  ever  at  a  distance 
from  the  most  beautiful  object  my  eyes  ever  beheld.  It  is 
thus  also  she  deals  with  all  mankind,  and  you  must  make 
love  to  her,  as  you  would  conquer  the  sphinx,  by  posing  ^ 
her.  But  were  she  like  other  women,  and  that  there  were 
any  talking  to  her,  how  constant  must  the  pleasure  of  that 
man  be  who  could  converse  with  a  creature —  But,  after 
all,  you  may  be  sure  her  heart  is  fixed  on  some  one  or 
other;  and  yet  I  have  been  credibly  informed — but  who 
can  believe  half  that  is  said  ?  After  she  had  done  speak- 
ing to  me,  she  put  her  hand  to  her  bosom  and  adjusted 
her  tucker.2  Then  she  cast  her  eyes  a  little  down,  upon 
my  beholding  her  too  earnestly.  They  say  she  sings  excel- 
lently; her  voice  in  her  ordinary  speech  has  something  in 
it  inexpressibly  sweet.  You  must  know  I  dined  with  her 
at  a  public  table  the  day  after  I  first  saw  her,  and  she 
helped  me  to  some  tansy  in  the  eye  of  all  the  gentlemen  in 
the  country:  she  has  certainly  the  finest  hand  of  any  woman 
in  the  world. ^  I  can  assure  you,  sir,  were  you  to  behold 
her,  you  would  be  in  the  same  condition;  for,  as  her 
speech  is  music,  her  form  is  angelic.  But  I  find  I  grow 
irregular  while  I  am  talking  of  her;  but  indeed  it  would 
be  stupidity  to  be  unconcerned  at  such  perfection.     Oh, 

*  Getting  the  better  of.     How  did  ffidipus  "  pose  "  the  sphinx? 
'  A  piece  of  muslin  or  lace  attached  to  the  gown  at  the  neck. 

*  Here,  for  the  first  time,  the  remark  has  some  point. 


y 


iilE  ROGER  IN  LOVE  63 

the  excellent  creature!  she  is  as  inimitable  to  all  women  as 
she  is  inaccessible  to  all  men." 

I  found  my  friend  begin  to  rave,  and  insensibly  led  him 
towards  the  house,  tliat  we  might  be  joined  by  some  other 
company;  and  am  convinced  that  the  widow  is  the  secret 
cause  of  all  that  inconsistency  which  appears  in  some  parts 
of  my  friend's  discourse;  though  he  has  so  mucli  command 
of  himself  as  not  directly  to  mention  her,  yet  according  to 
that  [passage]  of  Martial,^  which  one  knows  not  how  to 
render  in  English,  ^'  Dum  tacet  lianc  loquitur.''''  I  shall 
end  this  paper  with  thatf  whole  epigram,  which  represents 
with  much  humor  my  honest  friend's  condition. 

"  Quicqiiid  agit  Rufus,  nihil  est  nisi  Xaevia  Rufo  ; 
Si  gaudc't,  si  flet,  si  tacet,  lianc  loquitur  : 
Cenat,  propinat,  poscit,  negat,  annuit^ — una  est 
Naevia  ;  si  non  sit  Naevia,  niutus  erit. 
Scriberet  hesterua  patri  cum  luce  saluteni, 
'Naevia  lux,' iuquit,  ' Naevia  lumen,  ave.' " 

*'  Let  Rufus  weep,  rejoice,  stand,  sit,  or  walk, 
Still  he  can  nothing  but  of  Naevia  talk  ; 
Let  him  eat,  drink,  ask  questions,  or  dispute-, 
Still  he  must  speak  of  Naevia  or  be  mute  ; 
He  writ  to  his  father,  ending  with  this  line, —  . 
*I  am,  my  lovely  Naevia,  ever  thine.'  " 

R. 

'  Martial,  Book  i.,  Ep.  68.     There  are,  however,  two  more  lines  in 
the  epigram. 
*  Some  texts  have  innuit. 


64  S-lJi  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

XIII. 

CONTENTMENT   AND    POVERTY. 

[Spectator  No.  114.     Wednesday,  July  11,  1711.     Steele.'\ 

Paupertatis  pudor  et  fiiga . 

Horace. 

Economy  in  our  affairs  has  the  same  effect  upon  our  for- 
tunes which  good  breeding  has  tipon  our  conversations. 
There  is  a  pretending  behavior  in  botli  cases,  which,  instead 
of  making  men  esteemed,  renders  them  botli  miserable  and 
contemptible.  "We  had  yesterday  at  Sir  Roger's  a  set  of 
country  gentlemen  who  dined  with  him ;  and  after  dinner 
the  glass  was  taken,  by  those  who  jjleased,  pretty  plenti- 
fully. Among  others,  I  observed  a  person  of  a  tolerable 
good  aspect,  who  seemed  to  be  more  greedy  of  liquor  than 
any  of  the  company,  and  yet,  methought,  he  did  not  taste 
it  with  delight.  As  he  grew  warm,  he  was  suspicious  of 
everything  that  was  said;  and  as  he  advanced  towards 
being  fuddled,  his  humor  grew  worse.  At  the  same  time 
his  bitterness  seemed  to  be  rather  an  inward  dissatisfaction 
in  his  own  mind  than  any  dislike  he  had  taken  at  the  com- 
pany. Upon  hearing  his  name,  I  knew  him  to  be  a  gentle- 
man of  a  considerable  fortune  in  this  county,  but  greatly 
in  debt.  What  gives  the  unhappy  man  this  peevishness  of 
spirit  is,  that  his  estate  is  dipped,^  and  is  eating  out  with 
usury ;  2  and  yet  he  has  not  the  heart  to  sell  any  part  of  it. 
His  proud  stomach,  at  the  cost  of  restless  nights,  constant 
inquietudes,  danger  of  affronts,  and  a  thousand  nameless 
inconveniences,  preserves  this  canker  in  his  fortune,  rather 
than  it  shall  be  said  he  is  a  man  of  fewer  hundreds  a  year 
than  he  has  been  commonly  reputed.  Thus  he  endures 
the  torment  of  poverty,  to  avoid  the  name  of  being  less 

'  Involved,  mortgaged.  *  Interest. 


C0NTE2^^TMJ:yT  AXD   IWERTV  65 

rich.  If  you  go  to  his  house  you  see  great  plenty,  but 
served  in  a  manner  that  shows  it  is  all  unnatural,  and  that 
the  master's  mind  is  not  at  home.  There  is  a  certain  waste 
and  carelessness  in  the  air  of  everything,  and  the  vrhole 
appears  but  a  covered  indigence,  a  magnificent  poverty. 
That  neatness  and  cheerfulness  which  attends  the  table  of 
him  who  lives  within  compass,^  is  wanting,  and  exchanged 
for  a  libertine  ^  way  of  service  in  all  about  him. 

This  gentleman's  conduct,  though  a  very  common  way 
of  management,  is  as  ridiculous  as  tluit  officer's  would  be 
who  had  but  few  men  under  his  command,  and  should  take 
the  charge  of  an  extent  of  country  rather  than  of  a  small 
pass.  To  pay  for,  personate,  and  keep  in  a  man's  hands  a 
greater  estate  than  he  really  has,  is  of  all  others  ^  the  most 
unpardonable  vanity,  and  must  in  the  end  reduce  the  man 
who  is  guilty  of  it  to  dishonor.  Yet,  if  we  look  round 
us  in  any  county  of  Great  Britain,  we  shall  see  many  in 
this  fatal  error — if  that  may  be  called  by  so  soft  a  name 
Avhich  proceeds  from  a  false  shame  of  appearing  what  they 
really  are — when  the  contrary  behavior  would  in  a  short 
time  advance  them  to  the  condition  which  they  pretend  to. 

Laertes  *  has  fifteen  hundred  pounds  a  year,  which  is 
mortgaged  for  six  thousand  pounds;  but  it  is  impossible  to 
convince  him  that  if  he  sold  as  much  as  would  pay  off  that 
debt  he  would  save  four  shillings  in  the  pound, "^  which 
he  gives  for  the  vanity  of  being  the  reputed  master  of  it. 
Yet,  if  Laertes  did  this,  he  would  perhaps  be  easier  in  his 
own  fortune;^  but  then,  Irus,'  a  fellow  of  yesterday,  who 
has  but  twelve  hundred  a  year,  would  be  his  equal.    Rather 

*  Within  his  means.     '  Reckless. 

*  Show  that  this  is  bad  English.  State  Steele's  meaning  cor- 
rectly. 

*  Classic  names  were  frequently  assigned  to  fancied — and  some- 
times to  real — individuals,  where  we  should  speak  of  Smith,  Jones, 
and  Robinson ;  or  .John  Doe  and  Richard  Roe. 

^  At  b%  he  has  to  pay  £300  interest,  which,  compared  with  his 
income  (£1500),  is  "  four  shillings  in  the  pound." 

"  Because  he  has  to  pay  the  taxes  on  his  reputed  possessions. 

*  Who  were  Laertes  and  Irus  originally  ?      See  Pope's  Odyssey. 

5 


66  SIE  ROGER  DE  COVER  LEY 

than  this  shall  be,  Laertes  goes  on  to  bring  well-born  beg- 
gars into  the  world/ and  every  twelvemonth  charges  his 
estate  with  at  least  one  year's  rent  more  by  the  birth  of  a 
child. 

Laertes  and  Irus  are  neighbors,  whose  way  of  living  are 
an  abomination  to  each  other.  Irus  as  moved  by  the  fear 
of  poverty,  and  Laertes  by  the  shame  of  it.  Though  the 
motive  of  action  is  of  so  near  affinity  in  both,  and  may  be 
resolved  into  this,  "That  to  each  of  them  poverty  is  the 
greatest  of  all  evils,"  yet  are  their  manners  very  widely 
different.  Shame  of  poverty  makes  Laertes  launch  into 
unnecessary  equij^age,  vain  expense,  and  lavish  entertain- 
ments; fear  of  poverty  maices  Irus  allow  himself  only 
plain  necessaries,  appear  without  a  servant,  sell  his  own 
corn,  attend  his  laborers,  and  be  himself  a  laborer.  Shame 
of  poverty  makes  Laertes  go  every  day  a  step  nearer  to  it, 
and  fear  of  poverty  stirs  up  Irus  to  make  every  day  some 
further  progress  from  it. 

These  different  motives  produce  the  excesses  which 
men  are  guilty  of  in  the  negligence  of  and  provision  for 
themselves.  Usury,  stock-jobbing,  extortion,  and  oppres- 
sion have  their  seed  in  the  dread  of  want;  and  vanity, 
riot,  and  prodigality,  from  the  shame  of  it;  but  both  these 
excesses  are  infinitely  below  the  pursuit  of  a  reasonable 
creature.  After  we  have  taken  care  to  command  so  much 
as  is  necessary  for  maintaining  ourselves  in  the  order  of 
men  suitable  to  our  character,  the  care  of  superfluities  is  a 
vice  no  less  extravagant  than  the  neglect  of  necessaries 
would  have  been  before. 

Certain  it  is  that  they  are  both  out  of  ^  Nature  when  she 
is  followed  with  Reason  and  Good  Sense.  It  is  from  this 
reflection  that  I  always  read  Mr.  Cowley  with  the  greatest 
pleasure.  His  magnanimity  is  as  much  above  that  of  other 
considerable  men,  as  his  understanding;  and  it  is  a  true 
distinguishing  spirit  in  the  elegant  author  who  published 

'  Unlike. 


CONTENTMENT  AND  POVERTY  67 

his  works,^  to  dwell  so  much  upon  the  temper  of  his  mind 
and  the  moderation  of  his  desires.  By  this  means  he  has 
rendered  his  friend  as  amiable  as  famous.  That  state  of 
life  which  bears  the  face  of  poverty  with  Mr.  Cowley's 
"great  vulgar, "^  is  admirably  described;  and  it  is  no 
small  satisfaction  to  those  of  tlie  same  turn  of  desire,  that 
he  produces  the  authority  of  tlie  wisest  men  of  the  best 
age  of  the  world,  to  strengthen  his  opinion  of  the  ordinary 
pursuits  of  mankind. 

It  would,  methinks>  be  no  ill  maxim  of  life,  if,  accord- 
ing to  that  ancestor  of  Sir  Roger  whom  I  lately  mentioned, 
every  man  would  point  to  himself  what  sum  he  would 
resolve  not  to  exceed.  He  might  by  this  means  cheat  him- 
self into  a  tranquillity  on  this  side  of  that  expectation,  or 
convert  what  he  should  get  above  it  to  nobler  uses  than  his 
own  pleasures  or  necessities. 

This  temper  of  mind  would  exempt  a  man  from  an 
ignorant  envy  of  restless  men  above  him,  and  a  more  inex- 
cusable contempt  of  happy  men  below  him.  This  would 
be  sailing  by  some  compass,  living  Avith  some  design ;  but 
to  be  eternally  bewildered  in  prospects  of  future  gain,  and 
putting  on  unnecessary  armor  against  improbable  blows  of 
fortune,  is  a  mechanic  being,^  which  has  not  good  sense 

'  Dr.  Thos.  Sprat,  Bisliop  of  Rochester. 
*  "  Hence,  ye  profane  !     I  hate  ye  all; 

Both  the  gi-eat  vulgar  and  the  small. 

To  virgin  minds  which  yet  their  native  whiteness  hold 

Nor  yet  discolored  witli  the  love  of  gold — 
That  jaundice  of  the  soul 

(Which  makes  it  look  so  gilded  and  so  foul) — 

To  you,  ye  very  few,  these  truths  I  tell; 

The  Muse  inspires  my  song;  hark,  and  observe  it  well." 

These  are  the  opening  lines  of  a  paraphrase  by  Abraham  Cowley, 
found  at  the  conclusion  of  his  essay  Of  Goodness.  The  paraphrase 
is  of  Horace's  famous  ode,  beginning: 

"  Odi  profanum  vnlgus  et  arceo  : 
Favete  lingnis  ;  carmina  non  prius 
Audita  Musarum  sacerdos 

Virginibus  puerisque  canto." 

'  This  seems  to  mean  :  one  who  acts  thus  is  a  mechanical  being, 
without  good  sense,  etc. 


68  filR  ROGER  DE  COVE  RLE  Y 

for  its  direction,  bnt  is  carried  on  by  a  sort  of  acquired 
instinct  towards  things  below  our  consideration  and  un- 
worthy our  esteem. 

It  is  possible  that  the  tranquillity  I  now  enjoy  at  Sir 
Roger's  may  have  created  in  me  this  way  of  thinking, 
which  is  so  abstracted  from  the  common  relish  of  the  world ; 
but,  as  I  am  now  in  a  pleasing  arbor,  surrounded  Mith  a 
beautiful  landscape,  I  find  no  inclination  so  strong  as  to 
continue  in  these  mansions,  so  remote  from  the  ostenta- 
tious scenes  of  life;  and  am,  at  this  present  writing,  phi- 
losopher enough  to  conclude,  with  Mr.  Cowley, — 

"  If  e'er  ambition  did  my  fancy  cheat, 
With  any  wish  so  mean  as  to  be  great, 
Continue,  Heaven,  still  from  me  to  remove 
The  humble  blessings  of  that  life  I  love  !  "  * 

T. 

'  From  Cowlev's  essav  Of  Greatness. 


Sm  ROGER'S  LABORS  AX  J)   TROPHIES  G9 

XIV. 

SIK   ROGEE^S   LABORS    AXD   TROPHIES. 

[SpectfttdrJV^o.  115.     Thursday/,  July  12,  1711.     Addison.] 
Ut  sit  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano. 

Ji'VENAL. 

Bodily  labor  is  of  two  kinds :  either  that  which  a  man 
submits  to  for  his  livelihood,  or  tliat  which  he  undergoes 
for  his  pleasure.  The  latter  of  them  generally  changes  the 
name  of  labor  for  that  of  exercise,  but  differs  only  from 
ordinary  labor  as  it  rises  from  another  motive. 

A  country  life  abounds  in  both  these  kinds  of  labor,  and 
for  that  reason  gives  a  man  a  greater  stock  of  health,  and 
consequently  a  more  perfect  enjoyment  of  himself,  than 
any  other  way  of  life.  I  consider  the  body  as  a  system  of 
tubes  and  glands,  or,  to  use  a  more  rustic  phrase,  a  bundle 
of  pipes  and  strainers,  fitted  to  one  another  after  so  won- 
derful a  manner  as  to  make  a  proper  engine  ^  for  the  soul 
to  work  with.  This  description  does  not  only  comprehend 
the  bones,  tendons,  veins,  nerves,  and  arteries,  but  every 
muscle  and  every  ligature,  which  is  a  composition  of  fibres 
that  are  so  many  imperceptible  tubes  or  pipes,  interwoven 
on  all  sides  with  invisible  glands  or  strainers. 

This  general  idea  of  a  human  body,  without  considering 
it  in  its  niceties  of  anatomy,  lets  us  see  how  absolutely 
necessary  labor  is  for  the  right  preservation  of  it.  There 
must  be  frequent  motions  and  agitations,  to  mix,  digest, 
and  separate  the  juices  contained  in  it,  as  well  as  to  clear 
and  cleanse  that  infinitude  of  pipes  and  strainers  of  which 
it  is  composed,  and  to. give  their  solid  parts  a  more  firm 
and  lasting  tone.    Labor  or  exercise  ferments  the  humors,^ 

'  Machine.     '  Yet  a  third  sort  of  humor.     (See  note  1,  page  33.) 


70  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

casts  them  into  their  proper  channels,  throws  off  redundan- 
cies, and  lielps  nature  in  those  secret  distributions  without 
which  the  body  cannot  subsist  in  its  vigor,  nor  the  soul  act 
with  cheerfulness. 

I  might  here  mention  the  effects  which  this  has  upon  all 
the  faculties  of  the  mind,  by  keeping  the  understanding 
clear,  the  imagination  untroubled,  and  refining  those  spirits 
that  are  necessary  for  the  proper  exertion  of  our  intellectual 
faculties,  during  the  present  laws  of  union  between  soul 
and  body.  It  is  to  a  neglect  in  this  particular  that  we  must 
ascribe  the  spleen  ^  which  is  so  frequent  in  men  of  stu- 
dious and  sedentary  tempers,  as  well  as  the  vapors  ^  to 
which  those  of  the  other  sex  are  so  often  subject. 

Had  not  exercise  been  absolutely  necessary  for  our  well- 
being,  nature  would  not  have  made  the  body  so  proper  ' 
for  it,  by  giving  such  an  activity  to  the  limbs  and  such  a 
pliancy  to  every  part  as  necessarily  produce  those  compres- 
sions, extensions,  contortions,  dilatations,  and  all  other 
kinds  of  motions  that  are  necessary  for  the  preservation  of 
such  a  system  of  tubes  and  glands  as  has  been  before  men- 
tioned. And  that  we  might  not  want  inducements  to  en- 
gage us  in  such  an  exercise  of  the  body  as  is  proper  for 
its  welfare,  it  is  so  ordered  that  nothing  valuable  can  be 
procured  witliout  it.  Not  to  mention  riches  and  honor, 
even  food  and  raiment  are  not  to  be  come  at  without  the 
toil  of  the  hands  and  sweat  of  the  brows.  Providence  fur- 
nishes materials,  but  expects  that  we  should  work  them  up 
ourselves.  The  earth  must  be  labored  *  before  it  gives  its 
increase;  and  when  it  is  forced  into  its  several  products, 
how  many  hands  must  they  pass  through  before  they  are 
fit  for  use!  Manufactures,  trade,  and  agriculture  natu- 
rally employ  more  than  nineteen  parts  of  the  species  in 
twenty;  and  as  for  those  who  are  not  obliged  to  labor,  by 
the  condition  in  which  they  are  born,  they  are  more  mis- 

'  Melancholy.    "  The  feminine  of  spleen — melancholy  in  a  woman. 
•  Well-fitted.      '  Cultivated. 


SIR  ROGER'S  LABORS  AND   TROPHIES  71 

erable  than  the  rest  of  mankind  unless  they  indulge  them- 
selves in  that  voluntary  labor  which  goes  by  the  name  of 
exercise. 

My  friend  Sir  Roger  has  been  an  indefatigable  man  in 
business  of  this  kind,  and  lias  hung  several  parts  of  his 
house  with  the  trophies  of  his  former  labors.  The  walls 
of  his  great  hall  are  covered  with  the  horns  of  several 
kinds  of  deer  that  he  has  killed  in  the  chase,  which  he 
thinks  the  most  valuable  furniture  of  his  house,  as  they 
afford  him  frequent  topics  of  discourse,  and  show  that 
he  has  not  been  idle,  ^t  the  lower  end  of  the  hall  is  a 
large  otter's  skin  stuffed  with  hay,  which  his  mother 
ordered  to  be  hung  up  in  that  manner,  and  the  knight 
looks  upon  with  great  satisfaction,  because  it  seems  he  was 
but  nine  years  old  when  his  dog  killed  him.  A  little 
room  adjoining  to  the  hall  is  a  kind  of  arsenal  filled  with 
guns  of  several  sizes  and  inventions,  with  which  the  knight 
has  made  great  havoc  in  the  woods,  and  destroyed  many 
thousands  of  pheasants,  partridges,  and  woodcocks.  His 
stable  doors  are  patched  with  noses  that  belonged  to  foxes 
of  the  knight's  own  hunting  down.  Sir  Roger  showed  me 
one  of  them,  that  for  distinction  sake  has  a  brass  nail 
struck  through  it,  which  cost  him  about  fifteen  hours' 
riding,  carried  him  through  half  a  dozen  counties,  killed 
him  a  brace  of  geldings,  and  lost  above  half  his  dogs.^ 
This  the  knight  looks  upon  as  one  of  the  greatest  exploits 
of  his  life.  The  perverse  widow,  whom  I  have  given  some 
account  of,  was  the  death  of  several  foxes;  for  Sir  Roger 
has  told  me  that  in  the  course  of  his  amours  he  patched  the 
western  door  of  his  stable.  Whenever  the  widow  was  cruel, 
the  foxes  were  sure  to  pay  for  it.  In  proportion  as  his  pas- 
sion for  the  widow  abated,  and  old  age  came  on,  he  left  off 
fox-hunting;  but  a  hare  is  not  yet  safe  that  sits  within  ten 
miles  of  his  house. 

There  is  no  kind  of  exercise  which  I  would  so  recom- 

'  Does  Addison  seem  to  approve  of  such  zeal? 


72  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVE  RLE  Y 

mend  to  my  readers  of  both  sexes  as  this  of  riding,  as 
there  is  none  which  so  much  conduces  to  health,  and  is 
every  way  accommodated  to  the  body,  according  to  the 
idea  which  I  have  given  of  it.  Dr.  Sydenham  ^  is  very 
lavish  in  its  praises;  and  if  the  English  reader  will  see  the 
mechanical  effects  of  it  described  at  length,  lie  may  find 
them  in  a  book  published  not  many  years  since,  under  the 
title  of  the  "  Medicina  Gymnastica. "  ^ 

For  my  own  part,  when  I  am  in  town,  for  want  of  these 
opportunities/ 1  exercise  myself  an  hour  every  morning 
upon  a  dumb  bell  that  is  placed  in  a  corner  of  my  room,  v^O.  u_ 
and  pleases  me  the  more  because  it  does  evei^thing  I 
require  of  it  in  the  most  profound  silence.]  My  landlady 
and  her  daughters  are  so  well  acquainted  with  my  hours 
of  exercise,  that  they  never  come  into  my  room  to  disturb 
me  whilst  I  am  ringing.^ 

When  I  was  some  years  younger  than  I  am  at  present, 
I  used  to  employ  myself  in  a  more  laborious  diversion, 
which  1  learned  from  a  Latin  treatise  of  exercises  that  is 
written  with  great  erudition.'*  It  is  there  called  the 
GHioi.iaxi(v,  or  the  lighting  with  a  man's  own  shadow,  and 
consists  in  the  brandishing  of  two  short  sticks  grasped  in 
each  hand,  and  loaden  with  plugs  of  lead  at  either  end. 
This  opens  the  chest,  exercises  the  limbs,  and  gives  a  man 
all  the  pleasure  of  boxiug,  without  the  blows.  I  could 
Avish  that  several  learned  men  would  lay  out  that  time 
which  they  employ  in  controversies  and  disputes  about 
nothing,  in  this  method  of  fighting  with  their  own  shad- 
ows. It  might  conduce  very  much  to  evaporate  the  spleen, 
which  makes  them  uneasy  to  the  public  as  well  as  to 
themselves. 


'  An  eminent  Englishman,  the  foremost  physician  of  his  time. 
He  died  in  1689. 

*  By  Francis  Fuller. 

*  A*  "  dumb-bell  "  ringing  is  mucli  like  the  Spectator  talking. 

*  Artis   Oymnasticcv   apud  Antiquos,  etc.,   by  Hieronymus  Mer- 
curialis,  published  at  Venice  in  1569. 


SIB  ROGERS  LABORS  AND   TROPHIES  7o 

To  conclude,  as  1*^111  a  compound  of  soul  and  body,  T 
consider  myself  as  obliged  to  ^  a  double  scheme  of  duties, 
and  I  think  I  have  not  fulfilled  the  business  of  the  day  when 
I  do  not  thus  employ  the  one  ^  in  labor  and  exercise,  as 
well  as  the  other  ^  in  study  and  contemplation.  L. 

*  I  consider  that  1  am  bound  to.     '■'  Viz.,  the  body. 
•What  is  "the  other  "J 


74  SIB  ROGER  DE  COVERLEF 

m 

XV. 

SIR   ROGER   GOES   A-HUNTING. 
{Spectator  No.  116.     Friday,  July  13,  1711.     BudgeU.J 

Vocat  ingenti  clamore  Cithaeron, 

Taygetique  canes . 

Virgil. 

Those  who  have  searched  into  human  nature,  observe 
that  nothing  so  mucli  shows  the  nobleness  of  the  soul  as 
that  its  felicity  consists  in  action.  Every  man  has  such 
an  active  principle  in  him  that  he  will  find  out  something 
to  employ  himself  upon,  in  whatever  place  or  state  of  life 
he  is  posted.  I  have  heard  of  a  gentleman  Avho  was  under 
close  confinement  in  the  Bastile  ^  seven  years;  during  which 
time  he  amused  himself  in  scattering  a  few  small  pins 
about  his  chamber,  gathering  them  up  again,  and  placing 
them  in  different  figures  on  the  arm  of  a  great  chair. 
He  often  told  his  friends  afterwards,  that  unless  he  had 
found  out  this  piece  of  exercise,  he  verily  believed  he 
should  have  lost  his  senses. 

After  what  has  been  said,  I  need  not  inform  my  readers 
that  Sir  Roger,  with  whose  character  I  hojie  they  are  at 
present  pretty  well  acquainted,  has  in  his  youth  gone 
through  the  whole  course  of  those  rural  diversions  which 
the  country  abounds  in,  and  which  seem  to  be  extremely 
well  suited  to  that  laborious  industry  a  man  may  observe 
here  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  in  towns  and  cities.  I 
have  before  hinted  at  some  of  my  friend's  exploits:  he  has 
in  his  youthful  days  taken  forty  coveys  of  partridges  in  a 
season,  and  tired  many  a  salmon  with  a  line  consisting  but 

'  See  encyelopsedia  and  French  histories. 


SIR  ROGER   GOES  A-HUNTING  75 

of  a  single  hair.  The  constant  thanks  and  good  wishes  of 
the  neighborhood  always  attended  him  on  account  of  his 
remarkable  enmity  towards  foxes,  having  destroyed  ^  more 
of  those  vermin  2  in  one  year  than  it  was  thought  the  whole 
country  could  have  produced.  Indeed,  the  knight  does 
not  scruple  to  own,  among  his  most  intimate  friends,  that 
in  order  to  establish  his  reputation  this  way,  he  has  secretly 
sent  for  great  numbers  of  them  ^  out  of  other  counties, 
which  he  used  to  turn  loose  about  the  country  by  night, 
that  he  might  the  better  signalize  himself  in  their  destruc- 
tion the  next  day.  His  hunting  horses  were  the  finest  and 
best  managed  in  all  these  parts:  his  tenants  are  still  full 
of  the  praises  of  a  gray  stone-horse  ^  that  unhappily  staked  ^ 
himself  several  years  since,  and  was  buried  with  great 
solemnity  in  the  orchard. 

Sir  Eoger,  being  at  present  too  old  for  fox-hunting,  to 
keep  himself  in  action  has  disposed  of  his  beagles  and  got 
a  pack  of  stop-hounds.  What  these  want  in  speed  he  en- 
deavors to  make  amends  for  by  the  deepness  of  their 
mouths  and  the  variety  of  their  notes,  which  are  suited  in 
such  manner  to  each  other  that  the  whole  cry  ®  makes  up 
a  complete  concert.  He  is  so  nice  in  this  particular  "'  that 
a  gentleman  having  made  him  a  present  of  a  very  fine 
hound  the  other  day,  the  knight  returned  it  by  the  servant 
with  a  great  many  expressions  of  civility,  but  desired  him 
to  tell  his  master  that  the  dog  he  had  sent  was  indeed  a 
most  excellent  bass,  but  that  at  present  he  only  wanted  a 
counter-tenor.  Could  I  believe  my  friend  had  ever  read 
►Shakespeare,  I  should  certainly  conclude  he  had  taken 
the  hint  from  Theseus,  in  the  ''  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  ":^ 

'  The  syntax  is  faulty  here.     Amend  it. 

"  Vermin  (from  vermis,  a  worm)  commonly  means  noxious  little 
animals,  as  rats,  mice,  bugs,  flies,  etc.  Its  extension  to  creatures  as 
large  as  foxes  is  not  in  accord  with  the  modern  idiom. 

'  This  would  seem  to  refer  to  friends,  but  means  foxes. 

*  Stallion.     *  Became  impaled  while  leaping  a  fence.     "  Pack. 

'  Particular  in  this  respect.     *  Act  IV.,  Sc.  i. 


76  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

"•]\ry  hounds  are  bred  out  of  the  Spartan  kind, 
So  flew'd,'  so  sanded,"  and  their  heads  are  hung 
With  ears  that  sweep  away  the  morning  dew  : 
Crook-knee'd  and  dew-lapp'd '  like  Tliessalian  bulls  ; 
Slow  in  pursuit,  but  match'd  in  mouths,  like  bells, 
Each  under  each,^  a  cry  ^  more  tuneable 
Was  never  hoUa'd  to,  nor  cheer'd  with  horn." 

Sir  Roger  is  so  keen  at  tliis  sport  that  he  has  been  out 
almost  every  day  since  I  came  down ;  and  upon  the  chap- 
lain's offering  to  lend  me  his  easy  pad,  I  was  prevailed 
on  yesterday  morning  to  make  one  of  the  company.  I 
was  extremely  pleased,  as  we  rid  along,  to  observe  the 
general  benevolence  of  all  the  neighborhood  towards  my 
friend.  The  farmers'  sons  thought  themselves  happy  if 
they  could  open  a  gate  for  the  good  old  knight  as  he  passed 
by;  which  he  generally  requited  with  a  nod  or  a  smile,  and 
a  kind  inquiry  after  their  fathers  and  uncles. 

After  we  had  rid  about  a  mile  from  home,  we  came  upon 
a  large  heath,  and  the  sportsmen  began  to  beat.^  They 
had  done  so  for  some  time,  when,  as  I  Avas  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  the  rest  of  the  company,  I  saw  a  hare  pop  out 
from  a  small  furze-brake  ''  almost  imder  my  horse's  feet. 
I  marked  the  way  she  took,  which  I  endeavored  to  make 
the  company  sensible  of  by  extending  my  arm;  but  to  no 
purpose,  till  Sir  Roger,  who  knows  that  none  of  my  ex- 
traordinary motions  are  insignificant,  rode  up  to  me,  and 
asked  me  if  puss  was  gone  that  way.  Upon  my  answer- 
ing '*  Yes,"  ^  he  immediately  called  in  the  dogs  and  put 
them  upon  the  scent.  As  they  were  going  off,  I  heard  one 
of  the  country  fellows  muttering  to  his  companion  that 

*  Having  large  flews  or  chops — especially  prominent  in  hounds. 
"  Marked  with  yellow  spots. 

'  With  pendulous  skin  under  the  neck — especially  prominent  in 
cattle. 

*  [jike  notes  in  a  scale.     *  Pack  of  hounds. 

*  Strike  the  bushes,  etc.,  for  the  purpose  of  rousing  game. 
'  Thicket  of  furze. 

*  Another  speech  from  the  Spectator.     (See  note  6.  page  28j. 


SIR  ROGER   GOES  A-HUNTINO  77 

'twas  a  wonder  tliey  had  not  lost  all  their  sport,  for  want 
of  the  silent  gentleman's  crying  ''  Stole  away!  " 

This/  with  my  aversion  to  leaping  hedges,  made  me 
withdraw  to  a  rising  ground,  from  '  whence  I  could  have 
the  picture  of  the  whole  chase,  without  the  fatigue  of  keep- 
ing in  with  the  hounds.  The  hare  immediately  threw 
them  above  '  a  mile  behind  lier;  but  I  was  pleased  to  find 
that  instead  of  running  straight  forwards,  or,  in  hunter's 
language,  "flying  the  country,"  as  I  was  afraid  she  might 
have  done,  she  Avheeled  about,  and  described  a  sort  of  cir- 
cle round  the  hill  where  I  had  taken  my  station,  in  such 
manner  as  gave  me  a  very  distinct  view  of  the  sport.  I 
could  see  her  first  pass  by,  and  the  dogs  some  time  after- 
wards unravelling  the  whole  track  she  had  made,  and  fol- 
lowing her  through  all  her  doubles.  I  was  at  the  same 
time  delighted  in  observing  that  deference  which  the  rest 
of  the  pack  paid  to  each  particular  hound,  according  to 
the  character  he  had  acquired  amongst  them :  if  they  were 
at  fault,  and  an  old  hound  of  reputation  opened  but  once, 
he  was  immediately  followed  by  the  whole  cry;  while  a 
raw  dog,  or  one  who  was  a  noted  liar,  might  have  yelped 
his  heart  out,  without  being  taken  notice  of. 

The  hare  now,  after  having  squatted  two  or  three  times, 
and  been  put  up  again  as  often,  came  still  nearer  to  the 
place  where  she  was  at  first  started.  The  dogs  pursued 
her,  and  these  were  followed  by  the  jolly  knight,  who  rode 
upon  a  white  gelding,  encompassed  by  his  tenants  and  ser- 
vants, and  cheering  his  hounds  with  all  the  gaiety  of  five- 
and-twenty.  One  of  the  sportsmen  rode  up  to  me,  and 
told  me  that  he  was  sure  the  chase  was  almost  at  an  end, 
because  the  old  dogs,  which  had  hitherto  lain  behind,  now 
headed  the  pack.  The  fellow  was  in  the  right.  Our  hare 
took  a  large  field  just  under  us,  followed  by  the  full  cry 
"  in  view."  I  must  confess  the  brightness  of  the  weather, 
the  cheerfulness  of  everything  around  me,  the  chiding  of 

•This  what?        -        » Omit.  « More  thau. 


78  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVERLEY 

the  hounds,  which  was  returned  upon  us  in  a  double  echo 
from  two  neighboring  hills,  with  the  hollowing  of  the 
sportsmen,  and  the  sounding  of  the  horn,  lifted  my  spirits 
into  a  most  lively  pleasure,  which  I  freely  indulged  because 
I  was  sure  it  was  innocent.  If  I  was  under  any  concern, 
it  was  on  the  account  of  the  poor  hare,  that  was  now  quite 
spent,*  and  almost  within  the  reach  of  her  enemies;  when 
the  huntsman,  getting  forward,  threw  down  his  pole  before 
the  dogs.  They  were  now  within  eight  yards  of  that  game 
which  they  had  been  pursuing  for  almost  as  many  hours; 
yet,  on  the  signal  before  mentioned,  they  all  made  a  sud- 
den stand,  and  though  they  continued  opening  ^  as  much 
as  before,  durst  not  once  attempt  to  pass  beyond  the  pole. 
At  the  same  time  Sir  Eoger  rode  forward,  and,  alighting, 
took  up  the  hare  in  his  arms,  which  he  soon  delivered  up 
to  one  of  his  servants  with  an  order,  if  she  could  be  kept 
alive,  to  let  her  go  in  his  great  orchard,  W'here  it  seems  he 
has  several  of  these  prisoners  of  war,  who  live  together  in 
a  very  comfortable  captivity.  I  was  highly  pleased  to  see 
the  discipline  of  the  pack,  and  the  good-nature  of  the 
knight,  who  could  not  find  ^  in  his  heart  to  murder^  a 
creature  that  had  given  him  so  miich  diversion. 

As  we  were  returning  home  I  remembered  that  Mon- 
sieur Pascal,  in  his  most  excellent  discourse  on  the  "  Misery 
of  Man,"  tells  us  that  all  our  endeavors  after  greatness  pro- 
ceed from  nothing  but  a  desire  of  being  surrounded  by  a 
multitude  of  persons  and  affairs  that  may  hinder  us  from 
looking  into  ourselves,  which  is  a  view  we  cannot  bear. 
He  afterwards  goes  on  to  show  that  our  love  of  sports  comes 
from  the  same  reason,  and  is  particularly  severe  upon  hunt- 
ing. "  What,"  says  he,  '"unless  it  be  to  drown  thought, 
can  make  men  throw  away  so  much  time  and  pains  upon 
a  silly  animal,  which  they  might  buy  cheaper  in  the  mar- 
ket?"    The  foregoing  reflection  is  certainly  just  when  a 

'  Exhausted.  '  Baying. 

'  It.  *  Is  this  more  significant  than  kill  f 


SIR  ROGER   GOES  A-HUNTIXG  70 

man  suffers  his  whole  mind  to  be  drawn  into  his  sports, 
and  altogether  loses  himself  in  the  woods;  ^  but  does  not 
affect  those  who  propose  a  far  more  laudable  end  from 
this  exercise, — I  mean,  the  preservation  of  health,  and 
keeping  all  the  organs  of  the  soul  in  a  condition  to  exe- 
cute her  orders.  Had  that  incomparable  jierson,  whom  I 
last  quoted,  been  a  little  more  indulgent  to  himself  in  this 
point,  the  world  might  probably  have  enjoyed  him  much 
longer;  whereas  through  too  great  an  application  to  his 
studies  in  his  youth,  he  contracted  that  ill  habit  of  body 
which,  after  a  tedious  sickness,  carried  him  off  in  the 
fortieth  year  of  his  age;  and  the  whole  history  we  have  of 
his  life  till  that  time,  is  but  one  continued  account  of  the 
behavior  of  a  noble  soul  struggling  under  innumerable 
pains  and  distempers. ^ 

For  my  own  part,  I  intend  to  hunt  twice  a  week  during 
my  stay  with  Sir  Eoger;  and  shall  prescribe  the  moderate 
use  of  this  exercise  to  all  my  country  friends,  as  the  best 
kind  of  physic  for  mending  a  bad  constitution  and  pre- 
serving a  good  one. 

I  cannot  do  this  better  than  in  the  following  lines  out 
of  Mr.  Dryden: — 

"  The  first  physicians  by  debauch  were  made  ; 
Excess  began,  and  sloth  sustains  the  trade. 
By  chase  our  long-lived  fathers  earned  their  food  ; 
Toil  strung  tlie  nerves,  and  purified  the  blood  ; 
But  we  their  sons,  a  pamper'd  race  of  men. 
Are  dwindled  down  to  threescore  years  and  ten. 
Better  to  hunt  in  fields  for  health  unbought 
Thau  fee  the  doctor  for  a  nauseous  draught. 
The  wise  for  cure  on  exercise  depend  : 
God  never  made  his  work  for  man  to  mend." 


X.3 


•  See  note  1,  p.  71. 

*  Look  up  the  life  of  Pascal  and  see  for  what  he  was  noted. 
'  See  Spectator  No.  221. 


80  ^-tR  ROGER  DE  COVE  RLE  Y 

XVI. 

A   VILLAGE   WITCH. 
[Spectator  No.  117.     Saturday,  July  14,  1711.     Addison.'\ 

Ipsi  sibi  somnia  fingunt. 

Virgil. 

There  are  some  opinions  in  which  a  man  should  stand 
neuter,  without  engaging  his  assent  to  one  side  or  the  other. 
Such  a  hovering  faith  as  this,  which  refuses  to  settle  upon 
any  determination,  is  absolutely  necessary  to  a  mind  that 
is  careful  to  avoid  errors  and  prepossessions.  When  the 
arguments  press  equally  on  both  sides,  in  matters  that  are 
indifferent  to  us,  the  safest  method  is  to  give  up  ourselves 
to  neither. 

It  is  with  this  temper  of  mind  that  I  consider  the  sub- 
ject of  witchcraft.  When  I  hear  the  relations  that  are 
made  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  not  only  from  ^Norway 
and  Lapland,  from  the  East  and  West  Indies,  but  from 
every  particular  nation  in  Europe,  I  cannot  forbear  think- 
ing that  there  is  such  an  intercourse  and  commerce  with 
evil  spirits  as  that  which  we  express  by  the  name  of  witch- 
craft. But  when  I  consider  that  the  ignorant  and  credu- 
lous parts  of  the  world  abound  most  in  these  relations,  and 
that  the  persons  among  us  Avho  are  supposed  to  engage  in 
such  an  infernal  commerce  are  people  of  a  weak  under- 
standing and  a  crazed  imagination,  and  at  the  same  time 
reflect  upon  the  many  impostures  and  delusions  of  this 
nature  that  have  been  detected  in  all  ages,  I  endeavor  to 
suspend  my  belief  till  I  hear  more  certain  accounts  than 
any  which  have  yet  come  to  my  knowledge.  In  short, 
when  I  consider  the  question  whether  there  are  such  per- 
sons in  the  world  as  those  we  call  witches,  my  mind  is 
divided  between  the  two  opposite  opinions;  or  rather  (to 


A    y ILL  AGE    WITCH  81 

speak  my  thoughts  freely),  I  believe  in  geueml  that  there 
is,  and  has  been,  such  a  thing  as  witchcraft;  but  at  the  same 
time  can  give  no  credit  to  any  particular  instance  of  it. 

I  am  engaged  in  this  speculation  by  some  occurrences 
that  I  met  with  yesterday,  which  I  shall  give  my  reader 
an  account  of  at  large.  As  I  ^\'as  walking  with  my  friend 
Sir  Roger  by  the  side  of  one  of  his  woods,  an  old  woman 
applied  herself  to  me  for  my  charity.  Her  dress  and  figure 
put  me  in  mind  of  the  following  description  in  Otway: — 

"  In  a  close  lane  as  I  pursued  my  jouruey. 
I  spied  a  wrinkled  hag.  witli  age  grown  double, 
Picking  dry  sticks,  and  mumbling  to  herself. 
Her  eyes  with  scalding  I'heum  '  were  gall'd  and  red  ', 
Cold  palsy  shook  her  head  ;  her  hands  seem'd  wither''d ', 
And  on  her  crooked  shoulders  had  she  wrapp'd 
The  tatter'd  remnants  of  an  old  striped  hanging, 
Which  served  to  keep  her  carcase  from  the  cold  ; 
So  there  was  nothing  of  a  piece  '•'  about  her. 
Her  lower  weeds  '  were  all  o'er  coarsely  patch'd 
With  diff'rent  color'd  rags — black,  red,  white,  yellow — 
And  seem'd  to  speak  variety  of  wretchedness." 

As  I  was  musing  on  this  description,  and  comparing  it 
with  the  object  before  me,  the  knight  told  me  that  this 
very  old  woman  had  the  reputation  of  ^  a  witch  all  over 
the  country,  that  her  lips  were  observed  to  be  always  in 
motion,  and  that  there  was  not  a  switch  about  her  house 
which  her  neighbors  did  not  lielieve  had  carried  her  several 
hundreds  of  miles.  If  she  chanced  to  stumble,  they  al- 
ways found  sticks  or  straws  that  lay  in  the  figure  of  a 
cross  before  her.  If  she  made  any  mistake  at  church,  and 
cried  Amen  in  a  wrong  place,  they  never  failed  to  conclude 
that  she  Avas  saying  her  prayers  backwards.  There  was  not 
a  maid  in  the  parish  that  would  take  a  pin  of  her,  though 

*  A  serous  or  mucous  discharge  from  eyes  or  nose. 

*  Her  clothing  (rags)  did  not  match.  '  Garments. 

*  See  note  7,  p.  2. 


82  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVEULEY 

she  would  offer  a  hag  of  money  Avith  it.'  She  goes  hy  the 
name  of  Moll  White,  and  has  made  the  country  ring  with 
several  imaginary  exploits  which  are  palmed  upon  her.  If 
the  dairy  maid  does  not  make  her  butter  come  so  soon  as 
she  should  have  it,  Moll  White  is  at  the  bottom  of  the 
churn.  If  a  horse  sweats  in  the  stable,  Moll  AVhite  has 
been  upon  his  back.  If  a  hare  makes  an  unexpected 
escape  from  the  hounds,  the  huntsman  curses  Moll  White. 
"Nay"  (says  Sir  Roger),  "I  have  known  the  master  of 
the  pack,  upon  such  an  occasion,  send  one  of  his  servants 
to  see  if  Moll  AVhite  had  been  out  that  morning." 

This  account  raised  my  curiosity  so  far  that  I  begged  my 
friend  Sir  Roger  to  go  with  me  into  her  hovel,  which  stood 
in  a  solitary  corner  under  the  side  of  the  wood.  Upon 
our  first  entering.  Sir  Roger  winked  to  me,  and  pointed  at 
something  that  stood  behind  the  door,  which,  upon  looking 
that  way,  I  found  to  be  an  old  broomstatf.^  At  the  same 
time  he  whispered  me  in  the  ear  to  take  notice  of  a 
tabby  cat  that  sat  in  the  chimney-corner,  which,  as  the  old 
knight  told  me,  lay  under  as  bad  a  report  as  Moll  White 
herself;  for  besides  that  Moll  is  said  often  to  accompany 
her  in  the  same  shape,  the  cat  is  reported  to  have  spoken 
twice  or  thvice  in  her  life,  and  to  have  played  several  pranks 
above  the  capacity  of  an  ordinai-y  cat.* 

I  was  secretly  concerned  to  see  human  nature  in  so  much 
wretchedness  and  disgrace,  but  at  the  same  time  could  not 

'  The  belief  in  witches  at  this  time  was  quite  general.  Under  the 
law  decreeing  death  to  those  who  "dealt  with  evil  spiiits,  or  in- 
voked them  whereby  any  persons  were  killed  or  lamed,"  etc.,  two 
women  had  recently  been  executed  at  Northampton,  and  five  j'ears 
later  (171G)  a  Mrs.  Ilicks  and  her  daughter  were  hanged  at  Hunting- 
ton for  "selling  their  souls  to  the  devil,  making  their  neighbors 
vomit  pins,"  etc.,  etc. — Greene. 

Morley  has  an  interesting  note.  He  says  the  last  condemnation  to 
death  was  in  1712,  and  that  the  culprit  was  pardoned;  but  his  ac- 
counts of  the  evidence  at  the  trial  are  well-nigh  incrediljle. 

°  Witches  were  supposed  to  mount  them  in  their  nocturnal  rides 
through  the  air. 

'  The  devil  was  believed  to  assume  the  form  of  a  cat,  in  order  to 
converse  with  witches  under  the  same  shape. 


A    VILLAGE   WITCH  83 

forbear  smiling  to  hear  Sir  Roger,  who  is  a  little  puzzled 
about  the  old  woman,  advising  her,  as  a  justice  of  peace, 
to  avoid  all  communication  with  the  devil,  and  never  to 
hurt  any  of  her  neighbor's  cattle.  AVe  concluded  our  visit 
Avith  a  bounty,  which  was  very  acceptable. 

In  our  return  home,  Sir  Roger  told  me  that  old  Moll  had 
been  often  brought  before  him  for  making  children  spit 
pins,  and  giving  maids  the  nightmare;  and  that  the  coun- 
try people  would  be  tossing  her  into  a  pond  and  trying 
experiments  with  her  every  day,  if  it  was  not  for  him  and 
his  chaplain. 

I  have  since  found,  upon  inquiry,  that  Sir  Roger  was 
several  times  staggered  with  the  reports  that  had  been 
brought  him  concerning  this  old  woman,  and  would  fre- 
quently have  bound  her  over  to  the  county  sessions  had 
not  his  chaplain  with  much  ado  persuaded  him  to  the 
contrary. 

I  have  been  the  more  particular  in  this  account  because 
I  hear  there  is  scarce  a  village  in  England  that  has  not  a 
Moll  White  in  it.  When  an  old  woman  begins  to  dote, 
and  grow  chargeable  to  a  parish,  she  is  generally  turned 
into  a  witch,  and  fills  the  whole  country  with  extravagant 
fancies,  imaginary  distempers,  and  terrifying  dreams.  In 
the  mean  time  the  poor  wretch  that  is  the  innocent  occa- 
sion of  so  many  evils  begins  to  be  frighted  at  herself,  and 
sometimes  confesses  secret  commerce  and  familiarities  that 
her  imagination  forms  in  a  delirious  old  age.  This  fre- 
quently cuts  off  charity  from  the  greatest  objects  of  com- 
passion, and  inspires  people  with  a  malevolence  towards 
those  poor,  decrepit  parts  of  our  species  in  whom  human 
nature  is  defaced  by  infirmity  and  dotage.  L. 


84  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

XVII. 

A   PERVERSE   WOMAIS'. 

[Spectator  No.  118.     Monday,  July  16,  1711.     Steele.] 

Haeret  lateri  lethalis  arundo. 

v    ^^^,  Virgil. 

This  agreeable  seat  is  surrounded  with  so  many  pleasing 
■walks  which  are  struck  out  of  a  wood  in  the  midst  of 
which  the  house  stands,  that  one  can  hardly  ever  be  weary 
of  rambling  from  one  labyrinth  of  delight  to  another.  To 
one  used  to  live  in  a  city,  the  channs  of  the  country  are  so 
exquisite  that  the  mind  is  lost  in  a  certain  transport  which 
raises  us  above  ordinary  life,  and  is  yet  not  strong  enough 
to  be  inconsistent  with  tranquillity.  This  state  of  mind 
was  I  in,  ravished  with  the  murmur  of  waters,  the  whis- 
per of  breezes,  the  singing  of  birds;  and  whether  I  looked 
up  to  the  heavens,  down  on  the  earth,  or  turned  to  the 
prospects  around  me,  still  struck  with  new  sense  of  pleas- 
ure; when  I  found  by  the  voice  of  my  friend,  who  walked 
"by  me,  that  we  had  insensibly  strolled  into  the  grove  sacred 
to  the  widow.  "  This  woman,"  says  he,  'Ms  of  all  others 
the  most  unintelligible;  she  either  designs  to  marry,  or  she 
does  not.  What  is  the  most  perplexing  of  all  is,  that  she 
doth  not  either  say  to  her  lovers  she  has  any  resolutioji 
against  that  condition  of  life  in  general,  or  that  she  ban- 
ishes them;  but,  conscious  of  her  own  merit,  she  permits 
their  addresses  without  fear  of  any  ill  consequence,  or  want 
of  respect,  from  their  rage  or  despair.  She  has  that  in  her 
aspect  against  which  it  is  impossible  to  offend.  A  man 
whose  thoughts  are  constantly  bent  upon  so  agreeable  an 
object  must  be  excused  if  the  ordinary  occurrences  in 
conversation  are  below  his  attention.     I  call  her,  indeed, 


.4   PERVERSE    WOMAN  §5 

perverse,  but,  alas!  why  do  I  call  her  so  ?  Because  her 
superior  merit  is  such  that  I  cannot  approach  her  without 
awe,  that  my  heart  is  checked  by  too  much  esteem;  I  am 
angry  that  her  charms  are  not  more  accessible,  that  I  am 
more  inclined  to  worship  than  salute  her;  how  often  have 
I  wished  her  unhappy  that  I  might  have  an  opportunity  of 
serving  her  ?  and  how  often  troubled  in  that  very  imagina- 
tion, at  giving  her  the  pain  of  being  obliged  ?  Well,  I 
have  led  a  miserable  life  in  secret  upon  her  account;  but 
fancy  she  would  have  condescended  to  have  some  regard 
for  me  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  watchful  animal,  her 
confidante. 

''Of  all  persons  under  the  sun"  (continued  he,  calling 
me  by  my  name),  "  be  sure  to  set  a  mark  upon  confidantes; 
they  are  of  all  people  the  most  impertinent.  What  is 
most  pleasant  to  observe  in  them  is  that  they  assume  to 
themselves  the  merit  of  the  persons  whom  they  have  in 
their  custody.  Orestilla  is  a  great  fortune,  and  in  wonder- 
ful danger  of  surprises,  therefore  full  of  suspicions  of  the 
least  indifferent  thing,  particularly  careful  of  new  acquaint- 
ance, and  of  growing  too  familiar  with  the  old.  Themista, 
her  favorite  woman,  is  every  whit  as  careful  of  whom  she 
speaks  to  and  what  she  says.  Let  the  ward  be  a  beauty, 
her  confidante  shall  treat  you  with  an  air  of  distance;  let 
her  be  a  fortune,  and  she  assumes  the  suspicious  behavior 
of  her  friend  and  patroness.  Thus  it  is  that  very  many 
of  our  unmarried  women  of  distinction  are  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  married,  except  the  consideration  of  different 
sexes.  They  are  directly  under  the  conduct  of  their  whis- 
perer,^ and  think  they  are  in  a  state  of  freedom  while  they. 
can  prate  with  one  of  these  attendants  of  all  men  in  gen- 
eral and  still  avoid  the  man  they  most  like.  You  do  not 
see  one  heiress  in  a  hundred  whose  fate  does  not  turn  upon 
this  circumstance  of  choosing  a  confidante.  Thus  it  is 
that  the  lady  is  addressed  to,  presented,  and  flattered,  only 

'  Intimate  female  friend. 


86  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVERLEY 

by  proxy,  in  her  woman.     In  my  case,  how  is  it  possiWe 
that—" 

Sir  Roger  was  proceeding  in  his  harangue,  when  we  heard 
the  voice  of  one  speaking  very  importunately,  and  repeat- 
ing these  words,  "  What,  not  one  smile?  "  We  followed 
the  sound  till  we  came  to  a  close  thicket,  on  the  other  side 
of  which  we  saw  a  young  woman  sitting  as  it  were  in  a 
personated  sullenness  just  over  a  transparent  fountain. 
Opposite  to  her  stood  Mr.  William,  Sir  Roger's  master  of 
the  game.  The  knight  whispered  me,  "Hist,  these  are 
lovers."  The  huntsman,  looking  earnestly  at  the  shadow 
of  the  young  maiden  in  the  stream:  ^  "  O  thou  dear  pict- 
ure, if  thou  couldst  remain  there  in  the  absence  of  that 
fair  creature,  whom  you  represent  ^  in  the  water,  how  will- 
ingly could  I  stand  here  satisfied  for  ever,  without  troub- 
ling my  dear  Betty  herself  with  any  mention  of  her  unfor- 
tunate William,  Avhom  she  is  angry  with;  but  alas!  when 
she  pleases  to  be  gone,  thou  wilt  also  vanish — yet  let  me 
talk  to  thee  while  thou  dost  stay.  Tell  my  dearest  Betty 
thou  dost  not  more  depend  upon  her  than  does  her  AVilliam; 
her  absence  will  make  away  with  me  as  well  as  thee.  If 
she  offers  to  remove  thee,  I'll  jump  into  these  waves  to  lay 
hold  on  thee;  herself,  her  own  dear  person,  I  must  never 
embrace  again.  Still  do  you  ^  hear  me  without  one  smile  ? 
— it  is  too  much  to  bear."  He  had  no  sooner  spoke  these 
Avords  but  he  made  an  offer  of  throwing  himself  into  the 
water;  at  which  his  mistress  started  up,  and  at  the  next 
instant  he  jumped  across  the  fountain  and  met  her  in  an 
embrace.  She,  half  recovering  from  her  fright,  said  in 
the  most  charming  voice  imaginable,  and  with  a  tone  of 
complaint,  "I  thought  how  well  you  would  drown  your- 
self. No,  no,  you  won't  drown  yourself  till  you  have 
taken  your  leave  of  Susan  Holliday."  *  The  huntsman, 
with  a  tenderness  that  spoke  the  most  passionate  love,  and 

'  Understand  said.  "  "  Thou  representest. 

'  Dost  thou.  *  A  rival. 


A   PERVERSE   WOMAN  87 

with  his  cheek  close  to  hers,  whispered  the  softest  vows  of 
fidelity  in  her  ear,  and  cried,  "  Don't,  my  dear,  believe  a 
word  Kate  Willow  says;  she  is  spiteful  and  makes  stories, 
because  she  loves  to  hear  me  talk  to  herself  for  vour 
sake." 

"  Look  you  there,"  quoth  Sir  Roger,  '"  do  you  see  there, 
all  mischief  comes  from  confidantes!  But  let  us  not  inter- 
rupt them;  the  maid  is  honest,  and  the  man  dares  not  be 
otherwise,  for  he  knows  I  loved  her  father;  I  will  interpose 
in  this  matter,  and  hasten  the  wedding.  Kate  AVillow  is  a 
witty,  mischievous  wench  in  the  neighborhood,  who  was  a 
beauty;  and  makes  me  hope  I  shall  see  the  perverse  widow 
in  her  condition.'  She  was  so  flippant  with  her  answers 
to  all  the  honest  fellows  that  came  near  her,  and  so  very 
vain  of  her  beauty,  that  she  has  valued  herself  upon  her 
charms  till  they  are  ceased.  She  therefore  now  makes  it 
her  business  to  prevent  other  young  women  from  being 
more  discreet  than  she  was  herself;  however,  the  saucy 
thing  said  the  other  day  Avell  enough,  '  Sir  Roger  and  I 
must  make  a  match,  for  we  are  both  despised  by  those  we 
loved.'  The  hussy  has  a  great  deal  of  power  wherever  she 
comes,  and  has  her  share  of  cunning. 

"However,  when  I  reflect  upon  this  woman.-  I  do  not 
know  whether  in  the  main  I  am  the  worse  for  having 
loved  her;  whenever  she  is  recalled  to  my  imagination  my 
youth  returns,  and  I  feel  a  forgotten  warmth  in  my  veins. 
This  affliction  in  my  life  has  streaked  all  my  conduct  with 
a  softness  of  which  I  should  otherwise  have  been  incapable. 
It  is,  perhaps,  to  this  dear  imago  in  my  heart  owing,  that 
I  am  apt  to  relent,  that  I  easily  forgive,  and  that  many 
desirable  things  are  grown  into  my  temper  which  I  should 
not  have  arrived  at  by  better  motives  than  the  thought  of 
being  one  day  hers.  I  am  pretty  well  satisfied  such  a  pas- 
sion as  I  have  had  is  never  well  cured ;  and  between  you 
and  me,  I  am  often  apt  to  imagine  it  has  had  some  whim- 

*  With  her  beauty  decayed.         '  Xot  Kate  Willow— the  widow. 


88  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

sical  effect  upon  my  brain.  For  I  frequently  find  tliat  in 
my  most  serious  discourse  I  let  fall  some  comical  familiar- 
ity of  speech  or  odd  phrase  that  makes  the  company  laugh; 
however,  I  cannot  but  allow  she  ^  is  a  most  excellent 
woman.  When  she  is  in  the  country,  I  warrant  she  does 
not  run  into  dairies,  but  reads  upon  the  nature  of  plants; 
but  has  a  glass  hive,  and  comes  into  the  garden  out  of 
books  to  see  them  work,  and  observe  the  policies  of  their 
commonwealth. 2  She  understands  everything.  I'd  give 
ten  pounds  to  hear  her  argue  with  my  friend  Sir  Andrew 
Freeport  about  trade.  Xo,  no;  for  all  she  looks  so  inno- 
cent, as  it  were,  take  my  word  for  it  she  is  no  fool." 

T. 

*  Look  for  the  antecedent.  *  See  note  4,  p.  33. 


GOOD  BREEDIXG  IN  THE  COUNTRY  89 


XVIII. 

GOOD  BREEDIXG  IN'  THE  COUNTRY. 

[Spectator  No.  119.      Tnesdai/,  Juh)  17,  171 1.     AddtsonJ] 

Urbem  quam  dicunt  Komam.  Meliboee,  putavi 

Stultus  ego  hiiic  nostrae  similein . 

Virgil. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  reflections  which  arise  in  a 
man  who  changes  the  city  for  the  country,  are  upon  the 
different  manners  of  the  people  whom  he  meets  with  in 
those  two  different  scenes  of  life.  By  manners  I  do  not 
mean  morals,  but  behavior  and  good  breeding  as  they  show 
themselves  in  the  town  and  in  the  country. 

And  here,  in  the  first  23lace,  I  must  observe  a  very  great 
revolution  that  has  happened  in  this  article  of  good  breed- 
ing. Several  obliging  deferences,  condescensions,  and  sub- 
missions, with  many  outward  forms  and  ceremonies  that 
accompany  them,  were  first  of  all  brought  up  among  the 
politer  part  of  mankind,  who  lived  in  courts  and  cities, 
and  distinguished  themselves  from  the  rustic  part  of  the 
species  (who  on  all  occasions  acted  bluntly  and  naturally) 
by  such  a  mutual  complaisance  and  intercourse  of  civili- 
ties. These  forms  of  conversation  by  degrees  multiplied 
and  grew  troublesome;  the  modish  Avorld  found  too  great 
a  constraint  in  them,  and  have  therefore  thrown  most 
of  them  aside.  Conversation  was  so  encumbered  with 
show  and  ceremony  that  it  stood  in  need  of  a  reformation 
to  retrench  its  superfluities,  and  restore  it  to  its  natural 
good  sense  and  beauty.  At  present,  therefore,  an  uncon- 
strained carriage,  and  a  certain  openness  of  behavior  are 
the  heigh^  of  good  breeding.  The  fashionable  world  is 
grown  free  and  easy;  our  manners  sit  more  loose  upon  us. 
Nothing  is  so  modisli  as  an'  airrecable  negligence.     lu  a 


90  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVE  RLE  Y 

word,  good  breeding  shows  itself  most  where,  to  an  ordi- 
nary eye,  it  appears  the  least. 

If  after  this  Ave  look  on  the  people  of  mode  ^  in  the 
country,  we  find  in  them  the  manners  of  the  last  age. 
They  have  no  sooner  fetched  themselves  up  to  the  fashion 
of  the  polite  world  but  ^  the  town  has  dropped  them,  and 
are  ^  nearer  to  the  first  state  of  nature  than  to  those  refine- 
ments which  formerly  reigned  in  the  court  and  still  prevail 
in  the  country.  One  may  now  know  a  man  that  never  con- 
versed in  the  world  by  his  excess  of  good  breeding,  A 
polite  country  squire  shall  make  you  as  many  bows  in  half 
an  hour  as  would  serve  a  courtier  for  a  week.  There  is 
infinitely  more  to  do  about  place  and  precedency  in  a  meet- 
ing of  justices'  wives  than  in  an  assembly  of  duchesses. 

This  rural  politeness  is  very  troublesome  to  a  man  of  my 
temper,  who  generally  take  the  chair  that  is  next  me, 
and  walk  first  or  last,  in  the  front  or  in  the  rear,  as  chance 
directs.  I  have  known  my  friend  Sir  Roger's  dinner 
almost  cold  before  the  company  could  adjust  the  ceremo- 
nial, and  be  prevailed  npon  to  sit  down;  and  have  heartily 
pitied  my  old  friend,  when  I  have  seen  him  forced  to  pick 
and  cull  his  guests,  as  they  sat  at  the  several  parts  of  his 
table,  that  he  might  drink  their  healths  according  to  their 
respective  ranks  and  qualities.  Honest  Will  Wimble,  who 
I  should  have  tli<)ught  had  been  *  altogether  uninfected 
with  ceremony,  gives  me  abundance  of  trouble  in  this  par- 
ticular. Though  he  has  been  fishing  all  the  morning,  he 
will  not  help  himself  at  dinner  till  I  am  served.  When 
we  are  going  out  of  the  hall,  he  runs  behind  me;  and 
last  night,  as  we  were  walking  in  the  fields,  stopped  short 
at  a  stile  till  I  came  up  to  it,  and  upon  my  making  signs 
to  him  to  get  over,  told  me,  with  a  serious  smile,  that, 
sure,  I  believed  they  had  no  manners  in  the  country. 
/  There  has  happened  another  revolution  in  the  point  of 

'  Fashion.  '  Than. 

'  The  subject  is  "  town."  ♦  Would  be. 


GOOD  BREEDINO  IN  THE  COUNTRY  91 

good  breeding,  which  rehites  to  the  conversation  among 
men  of  mode,^  and  which  I  cannot  hut  look  upon  as  very 
extraordinary.  It  was  certainly  one  of  the  first  distinc- 
tions of  a  well-bred  man  to  express  everything  that  had 
the  most  remote  appearance  of  being  obscene  in  modest 
terms  and  distant  phrases;  whilst  the  clown,  who  had  no 
such  delicacy  of  conception  and  expression,  clothed  his 
ideas  in  those  plain,  homely  terms  that  are  the  most  obvi- 
ous and  natural.  This  kind  of  good  manners  was  perhaps 
carried  to  an  excess,  so  a  5  to  make  conversation  too  stitf, 
formal,  and  precise;  for  which  reason  (as  hyi)ocrisy  in  one 
age  is  generally  succeeded  by  atheism  in  another)  conversa- 
tion is  2  in  a  great  measure  relapsed  into  the  first  extreme; 
80  that  at  present  several  of  our  men  of  the  town,  and 
pai'ticularly  those  Avho  have  beeu  polished  ^  in  France, 
make  use  of  the  most  coarse,  uncivilized  words  in  our 
language,  and  utter  themselves  often  in  such  a  manner  as 
a  clown  would  blush  to  hear. 

/this  infamous  piece  of  good  breeding  which  reigns 
among  the  coxcombs  of  the  town  has  not  yet  made  its  way 
into  the  country;  and  as  it  is  impossible  for  such  an  irra- 
tional way  of  conversation  to  last  long  among  a  people 
that  make  any  profession  of  religion,  or  show  of  modesty, 
if  the  country  gentlemen  get  into  it  ^  they  will  certainly 
be  left  in  the  lurch.  Their  good  breeding  will  come  too 
late  to  them,  and  they  will  be  thought  a  parcel  of  lewd 
clowns,  while  they  fancy  themselves  talking  together  like 
men  of  wit  and  pleasure. 

As  the  two  points  of  good  breeding  which  I  have  hith- 
erto insisted  upon  regard  behavior  and  conversation,  there 
is  a  third  which  turns  upon  dress.  In  this,  too,  the  coun- 
try are  ^  ve^y  much  behindhand.  The  rural  beans  are  •* 
not  yet  got  out  of  the  fashion  that  took  place  at  the  time  of 
the  Revolution,  but  ride  about  the  country  in  red  coats  and 

'Fashion.  'Has.  '  Note  the  sal  ire. 

*  The  "  irrational  way."  °  Is.  *  Have. 


92  SIR  ROGER  DE  C'OVERLEY 

laced  hats,  while  the  women  in  many  parts  are  still  trying 
to  outvie  one  another  in  the  height  of  their  head-dresses. 

But  a  friend  of  mine,  who  is  now  upon  the  western  cir- 
cuit, having  promised  to  give  me  an  account  of  the  several 
modes  and  fashions  that  prevail  in  the  different  parts  of 
the  nation  through  which  he  passes,  I  shall  defer  the 
enlarging  upon  this  last  topic  till  I  have  received  a  letter 
from  him,  which  I  expect  every  post.  L. 


V 


SIR  ROGERS  POULTRY  .     93 

XIX. 

SIR  Roger's  poultry, 

[Spectator  Nos.  ^^  j,j      Thursday,     July  \Q,  1711.  f  ^^^d'^on.] 

Equidcm  credo,  quia  sit  diviiiitus  illis 

Ingeiiiuin . 

-Jovis  omnia  plena. 

Virgil. 

My  friend  Sir  Roger  is  very  often  merry  with  me  upon 
my  passing  so  much  of  my  time  among  his  poultry.  He 
has  caught  me  twice  or  thrice  looking  after  a  bird's  nest, 
and  several  times  sitting  an  hour  or  two  together  near  an 
hen  and  chickens.  He  tells  me  he  believes  I  am  personally 
acquainted  with  every  fowl  about  his  house:  calls  such 
a  particular  cock  my  favorite,  and  frequently  complains 
that  his  ducks  and  geese  have  more  of  my  company  than 
himself. 

I  must  confess  I  am  infinitely  delighted  with  those  spec- 
ulations of  nature  which  are  to  be  made  in  a  country  life; 
and  as  my  reading  has  very  much  lain  among  books  of 
natural  history,  I  cannot  forbear  recollecting  upon  this 
occasion  the  several  remarks  which  I  have  met  with  in 
authors,  and  comparing  them  with  what  falls  under  my 
own  observation:  the  arguments  for  Providence  drawn 
from  the  natural  history  of  animals  being,  in  my  opinion, 
demonstrative. 

The  make  of  every  kind  of  animal  is  different  from  that 
of  every  otlier  kind ;  and  yet  there  is  not  the  least  turn  in 
the  muscles  or  twist  in  the  fibres  of  any  one,  which  does 
not  render  them  more  proper  for  that  particular  animal's 

*  A  considerable  portion  of  each  of  the  two  papers  is  omitted  as 
having  no  connection  with  the  sketches  of  Sir  Roger  and  his  friends. 


94  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

way  of  life  than  any  other  cast  or  texture  of  them  would 
have  been,     .     .     . 

It  is  astonisliing  to  consider  the  different  degrees  of  care 
that  descend  from  the  parent  to  the  young,  so  far  as  is 
absohitely  necessary  for  the  leaving  a  posterity.  Some 
creatures  cast  their  eggs  as  chance  directs  them,  and  think 
of  them  no  farther,  as  insects  and  several  kinds  of  fish; 
others,  of  a  nicer  frame,^  find  out  proper  beds  to  deposit 
them  in,  and  there  leave  them,  as  the  serpent,  the  croco- 
dile, and  ostrich;  others  hatch  their  eggs  and  tend  the 
birth  till  it  is  able  to  shift  for  itself. 

What  can  we  call  the  principle  which  directs  every  dif- 
ferent kind  of  bird  to  observe  a  particular  plan  in  the 
structure  of  its  nest,  and  directs  all  of  the  same  species 
to  work  after  the  sau)  3  model?  It  cannot  be  imitation; 
for  though  you  hatch  a  crow  under  a  hen,  and  never  let  it 
see  auy  of  the  works  of  its  own  kind,  the  nest  it  makes 
shall  be  the  same,  to  the  laying  of  a  stick,  with  all  the 
other  nests  of  the  same  species.  It  cannot  be  reason ;  for 
were  animals  indued  with  it  to  as  great  a  degree  as  man, 
their  buildings  would  be  as  different  as  ours,  according 
to  the  different  convenieuces  that  they  would  propose  to 
themselves. 

Is  it  not  remarkable  that  the  same  temper  of  weather 
which  raises  this  genial  warmth  in  animals,  should  cover 
the  trees  with  leaves,  and  the  fields  with  grass,  for  their 
security  and  concealment,  and  produce  such  infinite  swarms 
of  insects  for  the  support  and  sustenance  of  their  respective 
broods  ? 

Is  it  not  wonderful  that  the  love  of  the  parent  should 
be  so  violent  while  it  lasts,  and  that  it  should  last  no  longer 
than  is  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  the  young?  .  .  . 
For  so  soon  as  the  wants  of  the  latter  cease,  the  mother 
withdraws  her  fondness,  and  leaves  them  to  provide  for 
themselves;  and  what  is  a  very  remarkable  circumstance 

'  fliglier  order. 


SIR   mxJKIlS  POULTRY  ,  05 

in  this  part  of  instinct,  Ave  find  that  the  love  of  the  parent 
may  be  lengthened  out  beyond  its  usual  time,  if  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  species  requires  it:  as  we  may  see  in  ^  birds 
that  drive  away  their  young  as  soon  as  they  are  able  to  get 
their  livelihood,  but  continue  to  feed  them  if  they  are 
tied  to  the  nest,  or  conlined  within  a  cage,  or  by  any  other 
means  appear  to  bo  out  of  a  condition  of  supplying  their 
own  necessities.     .     . 

Animals  in  their  generation  are  wiser  than  the  sous  of 
men;  ^  but  their  wisdom  is  confined  to  a  few  particulars, 
and  lies  in  a  very  narrow  compass.  Take  a  brute  out  of  •' 
his  instinct,  and  you  find  him  wholly  deprived  of  under- 
standing. To  use  an  instance  that  comes  often  under 
observation : 

With  what  caution  does  the  hen  provide  herself  a  nest 
in  places  unfrequented,  and  free  from  noise  and  disturb- 
ance! When  she  has  laid  her  eggs  in  such  a  manner 
that  she  can  cover  them,  what  care  does  she  take  in  turn- 
ing them  frequently,  that  all  parts  may  partake  of  the 
vital  warmth!  When  she  leaves  them,  to  provide  for  her 
necessary  sustenance,  how  punctually  does  she  return  be- 
fore they  have  time  to  cool  and  become  incapable  of  pro- 
ducing an  animal!  In  the  summer  you  see  her  giving 
herself  greater  freedoms,*  and  quitting  her  care  for  above 
two  hours  together;  but  in  winter,  when  the  rigor  of  the 
season  would  chill  the  principles  of  life,  and  destroy  the 
young  one,  she  groAvs  more  assiduous  in  her  attendance, 
and  stays  away  but  half  the  time.  When  the  birth  ap- 
proaches, with  how  much  nicety  and  attention  does  she 
help  the  chick  to  break  its  prison!  not  to  take  notice  of 
her  covering  it  from  the  injuries  of  the  weather,  providing 
it  proper  nourishment,  and  teaching  it  to  help  itself;  nor 
to  mention  her  forsaking  the  nest,  if  after  the  usual  time 
of  reckoning  the  young  one  does  not  make  its  appearance. 

'  The  case  of. 

'  What  is  the  Scriptural  allusion  ?  *  Away  from. 

*  We  may  say  liberties,  but  not  "freedoms." 


96  'S77i  ROGER  JJE  COVERLEY 

A  chemical  operation  could  not  be  followed  with  greater 
art  or  diligence  than  is  seen  in  the  hatching  of  a  chick; 
though  there  are  many  other  birds  that  show  an  infinitely 
greater  sagacity  in  all  the  forementioned  particulars. 

But  at  the  same  time  the  hen,  that  has  all  this  seeming 
ingenuity  (which  is  indeed  absolutely  necessary  for  the 
propagation  of  the  species),  considered  in  other  respects, 
is  without  the  least  glimmerings  of  thought  or  common- 
sense.  She  mistakes  a  piece  of  chalk  for  an  egg,  and  sits 
upon  it  in  the  same  manner;  she  is  insensible  of  any 
increase  or  diminution  in  the  number  of  those  she  lays; 
she  does  not  distinguish  between  her  own  and  those  of 
another  species;  and  when  the  birth  appears  of  never  so 
different  a  bird,  will  cherish  it  for  her  own.  In  all 
these  circumstances  which  do  not  carry  an  immediate  re- 
gard to  the  subsistence  of  herself  or  her  species,  she  is  a 
very  idiot. 

There  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  anything  more  mysterious 
in  nature  than  this  instinct  in  animals,  which  thus  rises 
above  reason,  and  falls  infinitely  short  of  it.  It  cannot  be 
accounted  for  by  any  properties  in  matter,  and  at  the  same 
time  works  after  so  odd  a  manner  that  one  cannot  think 
it  the  faculty  of  an  intellectual  being.  For  my  own  part, 
I  look  upon  it  as  upon  the  principle  of  gravitation  in  bod- 
ies, which  is  not  to  be  explained  by  any  known  qualities 
inherent  in  the  bodies  themselves,  nor  from  any  laws  of 
mechanism,  but,  according  to  the  best  notions  of  the 
greatest  philosophers,  is  an  immediate  impression  from 
the  first  Mover  and  the  divine  Energy  acting  in  the 
creatures.' 

L. 

As  I  was  walking  this  morning  in  the  great  yard  that 
belongs  to  my  friend's  country-house,  I  was  wonderfully 
l^leased  to  see  the  different  workings  of  instinct  in  a  hen 

•Here  No.  120  ends. 


,S77?  ROGKli'S  POULTRY  97 

followed  by  a  brood  of  ducks.  'I'he  young,  upon  the  siglit 
of  a  pond,  immediately  ran  into  it;  while  the  step-mother, 
with  all  imaginable  anxiety,  hovered  about  the  borders 
of  it,  to  call  them  out  of  an  element  that  appeared  to  her 
so  dangerous  and  destructive.  As  tlie  different  principle 
which  acted  in  these  different  animals  cannot  be  termed '. 
reason,  so  when-  we  call  it  instinct  we  mean  something 
we  have  no  knowledge  of.  To  me,  as  I  hinted  in  my  last 
paper,  it  seems  the  immediate  direction  of  Providence,  and 
such  an  operation  of  the  Supreme  Being  as  that  which 
determines  all  the  portions  of  matter  to  their  proper  cen- 
tres. A  modern  philosopher,  quoted  by  Monsieur  Bayle,* 
in  his  learned  '*  Dissertation  on  the  Sonls  of  Brutes," 
delivers  the  same  opinion,  though  in  a  bolder  form  of 
words,  where  he  says,  ^' Beus  est  anima  hrutorum  (God 
himself  is  the  soul  of  brntes)."  Who  can  tell  what  to  call 
that  seeming  sagacity  in  animals  which  directs  them  to 
such  food  as  is  projoer  for  them  and  makes  them  naturally 
avoid  whatever  is  noxious  or  nnwholesome  ?  .  ,  .  Dam- 
pier,2  in  his  "Travels,"  tells  us,  that  when  seamen  are 
thrown  upon  any  of  the  unknown  coasts  of  America,  they 
never  venture  upon  the  fruit  of  any  tree,  how  tempt- 
ing soever  it  may  appear,  unless  they  observe  that  it  is 
marked  with  the  pecking  of  birds;  but  fall  on  without 
any  fear  or  apprehension  where  the  birds  have  been  before 
them.     .     . 

I  could  wish  our  Royal  Society  would  compile  a  body  of 
natural  history,  the  best  that  could  be  gathered  together 
from  books  and  observations.  If  the  several  writers  among 
them  took  each  his  particular,  species,^  and  gave  us  a. dis- 
tinct account  of  its  original,  birth,  and  education — its  poli- 
cies, hostilities,  and  alliances,  with  the  frame  and  texture 
of  its  inward  and  outward  parts,  and  particularly  those 

'  Pierre  Bayle,  the  author  of  a  famous  dictionary  published  in 
French  in  1695,  and  in  Englisli  the  year  before  this  essay  was  written. 
"Capt.  William  Darapier,  in  his  Voyages  Round  the  World. 
•  The  species  with  which  he  was  most  familiar. 


98  *'>'/^  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

that  distinguish  it  from  all  other  animals — witli  their  pe- 
culiar aptitudes  for  the  state  of  being  in  which  Providence 
has  placed  them — it  would  be  one  of  the  best  services  their 
studies  could  do  mankind,  and  not  a  little  redound  to  the 
glory  of  the  all-wise  Contriver. 

L. 


^ 


;sni  ROGER   ON  THE  BENVH  yQ 


XX. 

SIR   ROGER    ON'    THE    BEXCH. 
[Spectator  No.  123.     Friday,  July  20,  1711.     Addison.] 

Comes  jucundus  in  via  pro  vchiciilo  est. 

Pttblus  Syri's. 


A  man's  first  care  should  be  to  avoid  the  reproaches  of 
his  own  heart;  liis  next,  to  escape  the  censures  of  tlie 
world.  If  the  last  interferes  with  the  former,  it  ought  to 
be  entirely  neglected;  but  otherwise  there  cannot  be  a 
greater  satisfaction  to  an  honest  mind  than  to  see  those 
approbations  which  it  gives  itself  seconded  by  the  applauses 
of  the  public.  A  man  is  more  sure  of  his  conduct  Avhen 
the  verdict  which  he  passes  upon  his  own  behavior  is  thus 
warranted  and  confirmed  by  the  opinion  of  all  that  know 
him. 

My  worthy  friend  Sir  Eoger  is  one  of  those  who  is  not 
only  at  peace  within  himself  but  beloved  and  esteemed  by 
all  about  him.  He  receives  a  suitable  tribute  for  his  uni- 
versal benevolence  to  mankind  in  the  returns  of  affection 
and  good-will  which  are  paid  him  by  every  one  that  lives 
within  his  neighborhood.  I  lately  met  with  two  or  three 
odd  instances  of  that  general  respect  which  is  shown  to  the 
good  old  knight.  He  would  needs  carry  Will  Wimble  and 
myself  with  him  to  the  county  assizes.  As  we  were  upon 
the  road,  AVill  AVimble  joined  a  couple  of  plain  men  who 
rid  before  ns,  and  conversed  with  them  for  some  time; 
during  which  my  friend  Sir  Roger  acquainted  me  with 
their  characters. 

"The  first  of  them,"  says  he,  "that  has  a  spaniel  by 
his  side,  is  a  yeoman  of  about  an  hundred  pounds  a  year, 


100  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

an  honest  man.  He  is  just  within  the  Game  Act,'  and 
qualified  to  kill  an  hare  or  a  pheasant.  He  knocks  down  a 
dinner  with  his  gun  twice  or  thrice  a  week;  and  by  that 
means  lives  much  cheaper  tlian  those  who  have  not  so  good 
an  estate  as  himself.  He  would  be  a  good  neighbor  if  he 
did  not  destroy  so  many  partridges;  in  short,  he  is  a  very 
sensible  man,  shoots  flying,  and  has  been  several  times 
foreman  of  the  petty  jury.^ 

''  The  other  that  rides  along  with  him  is  Tom  Touchy, 
a  fellow  famous  for  taking  the  law  of  everybody.  There 
is  not  one  in  the  town  where  he  lives  that  he  has  not  sued 
at  a  quarter  sessions.  The  rogue  had  once  the  impudence 
to  go  to  law  with  the  widow.  His  head  is  full  of  costs, 
damages,  and  ejectments;  he  plagued  a  couple  of  honest 
gentlemen  so  long  for  a  trespass  in  breaking  one  of  his 
hedges,  till  ^  he  was  forced  to  sell  the  ground  it  enclosed 
to  defray  the  charges  of  the  prosecution.  His  father  left 
him  fourscore  pounds  a  year,  but  he  has  cast  and  been  cast* 
BO  often  that  he  is  not  now  worth  thirty.  I  suppose  he  is 
going  upon  the  old  business  of  the  willow  tree.  "^ 

As  Sir  Roger  was  giving  me  this  account  of  Tom  Touchy, 
Will  AVimble  and  his  two  companions  stopped  short  till  we 

'  Even  so  late  as  1827,  if  a  man  who  possessed  an  income  of  less 
than  £40  presumed  to  shoot  "an  hare  or  a  pheasant"  or  any  other 
game,  any  one  with  an  income  of  £100  was  qualified  to  seize  "  and 
for  ever  keep  "  his  guns  and  dogs  or  any  implements  of  the  chase  in 
his  possession. 

'  Remember  that  Sir  Koger  is  a  justice  as  well  as  a  hunter. 

'That.  The  meaning  is  :  he  plagued  a  couple  .  .  .  till  he 
■was  forced,  etc. 

*  Won  and  lost. 

"  I  and  her  own  brother 
Went  to  law  with  one  another  ; 
I  was  cast,  the  suit  was  lost. 
And  every  penny  went  to  pay  the  cost." 

Anon. 

The  implication  (confirmed  by  the  preceding  sentence)  is  that  it  is 
expensive  even  to  win  at  law.  . 

*  Though  we  know  nothing  of  the  willow  tree,  see  bow  realistic  this 
makes  the  whole  description. 


SIR  liOGER   ON   THE  BENCH  101 

came  up  to  them.  After  having  paid  their  respects  to  8ir 
Roger,  Will  told  him  that  ^Ir.  Touchy  and  he  must  appeal 
to  him  upon  a  dispute  that  arose  between  them.  Will,  it 
seems,  had  been  giving  liis  fellow-traveller  an  account  of 
his  angling  one  day  in  such  a  '  hole;  when  Tom  Touchy, 
instead-  of  hearing  out  his  story,  told  him  that  Mr.  Such- 
an-one,  if  he  pleased,  might  take  the  law  of  him  for  fishing 
in  that  part  of  the  river.  My  friend  Sir  lioger  heard  them 
both,  upon  a  round  trot;  and,  after  having  paused  some 
time,  told  them,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  would  not  give 
his  judgment  rashly,  that  much  might  be  said  on  both 
sides.  They  were  neither  of  them  dissatisfied  with  the 
knight's  determination,  because  neither  of  them  found 
himself  in  the  wrong  by  it.  Upon  which  we  made  the 
best  of  our  way  to  the  assizes. 

The  court  was  sat  before  ^  Sir  Roger  came;  but  notwith- 
standing all  the  justices  had  taken  their  places  upon  the 
bench,  they  made  room  for  the  old  knight  at  the  head  of 
them;  who,  for  his  reputation  in  the  country,  took  occa- 
sion to  whisper  in  the  judge's-'  ear  that  he  was  glad  his 
lordship  had  met  with  so  much  good  weather  in  his  cir- 
cuit.* I  was  listening  to  the  proceeding  of  the  court  with 
much  attention,  and  infinitely  pleased  with  that  great  ap- 
pearance and  solemnity  Avhich  so  properly  accompanies 
Buch  a  public  administration  of  our  laws,  when,  after  about 
an  hour's  sitting,  I  observed,  to  my  great  surprise,  in  the 
midst  of  a  trial,  that  my  friend  Sir  Roger  was  getting  up 
to  speak.  I  was  in  some  pain  for  him,  till  I  found  he  had 
acquitted  himself  of  two  or  three  sentences,  with  a  look  of 
much  business  and  great  intrepidity. 

Upon  his  first  rising  the  court  was  hushed,  and  a  general 
whisper  ran  among  the  country  people  that  Sir  Roger  was 
up.  The  speech  he  made  was  so  little  to  the  purpose  that 
I  shall  not  trouble  my  readers  with  an  account  of  it;  and 

'A  certain.  'Had  sat  before  :  or,  was  sitting  when. 

•  Chief  justice's.         *  Npte  the  importance  of  this  communication. 


103  6772  ROGER  VE  COVERLEY 

I  believe  was  not  so  much  designed  by  the  knight  himself 
to  inform  the  court,  as  to  give  him  a  figure  in  my  eye,  and 
keep  up  his  credit  in  the  country. 

I  was  highly  delighted,  when  the  court  rose,  to  see  the 
gentlemen  of  the  country  gathering  about  my  old  friend, 
and  striving  who  should  compliment  him  most;  at  the 
same  time  that  the  ordinary  people  gazed  upon  him  at  a 
distance,  not  a  little  admiring  his  courage,  that  was  not 
afraid  to  speak  to  the  judge. 

In  our  return  home  we  met  with  a  very  odd  accident, 
which  I  cannot  forbear  relating,  because  it  shows  how  de- 
sirous all  who  know  Sir  Roger  are  of  giving  him  marks  of 
their  esteem.  When  Ave  were  arrived  upon  the  verge  of  his 
estate,  we  stopped  at  a  little  inn  to  rest  ourselves  and  our 
horses.  The  man  of  the  house  had,  it  seems,  been  for- 
merly a  servant  in  the  knight's  family;  and,  to  do  honor  to 
his  old  master,  had  some  time  since,  unknown  to  Sir 
Roger,  put  him  up  in  a  sign-post^  before  the  door;  so  that 
the  knight's  head  had  hung  out  ^  upon  the  road  about  a 
week  before  he  himself  knew  anything  of  the  matter.  As 
soon  as  Sir  Roger  was  acquainted  with  it,  finding  that  his 
servant's  indiscretion  proceeded  wholly  from  affection  and 
good-will,  he  only  told  him  that  he  had  made  him  too  high 
a  compliment;  and  when  the  fellow  seemed  to  think  that 
could  hardly  be,  added,  with  a  more  decisive  look,  that  it 
was  too  great  an  honor  for  any  man  under  a  duke;^  but 
told  him  at  the  same  time  that  it  might  be  altered  with  a  very 
few  touches,  and  that  he  himself  would  be  at  the  charge 
of  it.*  Accordingly  they  got  a  painter,  by  the  knight's 
directions,  to  add  a  pair  of  whiskers  to  the  face,  and  by  a 
little  aggravation  to  the  features  to  change  it  into  the 
Saracen's  Head.     I  should  not  have  known  this  story  had 

'  The  signs  of  inns  were  usually  paintings  of  some  object,  as  The 
Pyed  Bull,  The  Blue  Boar,  The  Black  Bear,  The  Three  Cranes. 

"  Probably  a  humorous  allusion  to  the  pleasant  custom  of  hanging 
heads  "  on  eitv  gates  and  castle  walls." 
.  »^,  g.,  thfi  l3uke  ©f  Norfolk— Tower  Hiil,  1573.    .         '•pay -for  it. 


SIR  ROGER   OX  THE  BENCH  103 

not  the  innkeeper,  upon  Sir  Roger's  alighting,  told  him 
in  my  hearing  that  his  honor's  head  was  brought  back  last 
night  with  the  alterations  that  he  had  ordered  to  be  made 
in  it.  Upon  this,  my  friend,  with  his  usual  cheerfulness, 
related  the  particulars  above  mentioned,  and  ordered  the 
head  to  be  brought  into  the  room.  I  could  not  forbear 
discovering^  greater  expressions  of  mirtli  than  ordinary 
upon  the  appearance  of  this  monstrous  face,  under  waich, 
notwithstanding  it  was  made  to  frown  and  stare  in  a  most 
extraordinary  manner,  I  could  still  discover^  a  distant  re- 
semblance of  my  old  friend.  Sir  Roger,  upon  seeing  me 
laugh,  desired  me  to  tell  him  truly  if  I  thought  it  possible 
for  people  to  know  him  in  that  disguise.  I  at  first  kept 
my  usual  silence;  but  upon  the  knight's  conjuring  me  to 
tell  him  whether  it  was  not  still  more  like  himself  than  a 
Saracen,  I  composed  my  countenance  in  the  best  manner  I 
could,  and  replied  that  much  might  be  said  on  both  sides. 
These  several  adventures,  with  the  knight's  behavior  in 
them,  gave  me  as  pleasant  a  day  as  ever  I  met  with  in  any 
of  my  travels.  L. 

'  Note  the  different  senses  in  which  discover  is  employed. 


A 


104  SIE  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

XXI. 

THE    EDUCATION    OF    AN    HEIR. 

[Spectator  No.  123.     Saturday,  July  21,  1711.     Addison.l 

Doctrina  sed  vim  promovet  insitara 
Rectiqiie  cultus  pectnra  roborant ; 

Utcunque  defecere  mores, 

Dedecorant  bene  nata  culpae. 

Horace. 

As  I  was  yesterday  taking  the  air  with  my  friend  Sir 
Roger,  we  were  met  by  a  fresh-colored,  ruddy  young  man, 
who  rid  by  us  full  speed,  with  a  couple  of  servants  behind 
him.  Upon  my  inquiry  who  he  was.  Sir  Roger  told  me 
that  he  was  a  young  gentleman  of  a  considerable  estate, 
who  had  been  educated  by  a  tender  mother,  that  lives  not 
many  miles  from  the  place  where  we  were.  She  is  a  very 
good  lady,  says  my  friend,  but  took  so  much  care  of  her 
son's  health,  that  she  has  made  him  good  for  nothing. 
She  quickly  found  that  reading  was  bad  for  his  eyes,  and 
that  writing  made  his  head  ache.  He  was  let  loose  among 
the  woods  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  ride  on  horseback,  or  to 
carry  a  gun  upon  his  shoulder.  To  be  brief,  I  found  by 
my  friend's  account  of  him,  that  he  had  got  a  great  stock 
of  health,  but  nothing  else;  ^  and  that,  if  it  were  a  man's 
business  only  to  live,  there  would  not  be  a  more  accom- 
plished young  fellow  in  the  whole  country. 

The  truth  of  it  is,  since  my  residing  in  these  parts  I 
have  seen  and  heard  innumerable  instances  of  young  heirs 
and  elder  brothers  who — either  from  their  own  reflecting 
upon  the  estates  they  are  born  to,  and  therefore  thinking 
all   other  accomplishments  unnecessary;  or  from  hearing 

'  Did  Addison  underrate  the  blessing  of  good  health  ?  See  p.  79  ; 
also  note  2,  p.  73. 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  AN  HEIR  105 

these  notions  frequently  inculcated  to  them  by  the  flattery 
of  their  servants  and  domestics;  or  from  the  same  foolish 
thought  prevailing  in  those  who  have  the  care  of  their 
education — are  of  no  manner  of  use  but  to  keep  up  their 
families,  and  transmit  their  lands  and  houses  in  a  line  to 
posterity. 

This  makes  me  often  think  on  a  story  I  have  heard  of 
two  friends,  which  I  shall  give  my  reader  at  large  under 
feigned  names.  The  moral  of  it  may,  I  hope,  be  useful, 
though  there  are  some  circumstances  which  make  it  rather 
appear  like  a  novel  than  a  true  story. 

Eudoxus  and  Leontine  began  the  world  with  small  es- 
tates. They  were  both  of  them  men  of  good  sense  and 
great  virtue.  They  prosecuted  their  studies  together  in 
their  earlier  years,  and  entered  into  such  a  friendship  as 
lasted  to  the  end  of  their  lives.  Eudoxus,  at  his  first 
setting  out  in  the  world,  threw  himself  into  a  court,  where 
by  his  natural  endowments  and  his  acquired  abilities  he 
made  his  way  from  one  post  to  another,  till  at  length  he 
had  raised  a  very  considerable  fortune.  Leontine,  on  the 
contrary,  sought  iall  opportunities  of  improving  his  mind 
by  study,  conversation,  and  ti-avel.  He  was  not  only  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  sciences,  but  with  the  most  eminent 
professors  of  them  throughout  Europe.  He  knew  perfectl}' 
w^ell  the  interests  of  its  princes,  with  the  customs  and 
fashions  of  their  courts,  and  could  scarce  meet  with  the 
name  of  an  extraordinary  person  in  the  Gazette  ^  whom  he 
had  not  either  talked  to  or  seen.  In  short,  he  had  so  well 
mixed  and  digested  his  knowledge  of  men  and  books,  that 
he  made  one  of  the  most  accomplished  persons  of  his  age. 
During  the  whole  course  of  his  studies  and  travels  he  kept 
up  a  punctual  correspondence  with  Eudoxus,  who  often 
made  himself  acceptable  to  the  principal  men  about  court 
by  the  intelligence  which   he    received  from    Leontine. 

'  The  official  journal  published  by  the  British  government,  of 
which  Steele  had  been  editor  from  May,  1707,  to  October,  1710. 


106  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVE  RLE  Y 

When  they  were  both  turned  of  forty  (an  age  in  which, 
according  to  Mr.  Cowley,  "  there  is  no  dallying  with  life  ")  ^ 
they  determined,  pursuant  to  the  resolution  they  had 
taken  in  tlie  beginning  of  their  lives,  to  retire,  and  pass 
the  remainder  of  their  days  in  the  country.  In  order  to  ^ 
this,  they  both  of  them  married  much  about  the  same  time. 
'Leontine,  with  his  own  and  his  wife's  fortune,  bought  a 
farm  of  three  hundred  a  year,  which  lay  witliin  the  neigh- 
borhood of  his  friend  Eudoxus,  who  had  purchased  au 
estate  of  as  many  thousands.  Tliey  were  both  of  them 
fathers  about  the  same  time,  Eudoxus  having  a  son  born 
to  him,  and  Leontine  a  daughter;  but,  to  the  unspeakable 
grief  of  the  latter,  liis  young  wife,  in  whom  all  his  happi- 
ness was  wrapt  up,  died  in  a  few  days  after  the  birth  of 
her  daughter.  His  affliction  would  have  been  insupporta- 
ble had  not  he  been  comforted  by  the  daily  visits  and  con- 
versations of  liis  friend.  As  they  were  one  day  talking 
together  with  their  usual  intimacy,  Leontine  considering 
how  incapable  he  was  of  giving  his  daughter  a  proper  edu- 
cation in  his  own  house,  and  Eudoxus  reflecting  on  the 
ordinary  behavior  of  a  son  who  knows  himself  to  be  the 
heir  of  a  great  estate,  they  both  agreed  upon  an  exchange 
of  children;  namely,  that  the  boy  should  be  bred  up  with 
Leontine  as  his  son,  and  that  the  girl  should  live  with 
Eudoxus  as  his  daughter,  till  they  were  eacli  of  them 
arrived  at  years  of  discretion.  The  wife  of  Eudoxus, 
knowing  that  her  son  could  not  be  so  advantageously 
brought  up  as  under  the  care  of  Leontine,  and  considering 
at  the  same  time  that  he  would  be  perpetually  under  her 
own  eye,  was  by  degrees  prevailed  upon  to  fall  in  with  the 
project.  She  therefore  took  Leonilla,  for  that  was  tlie  name 
of  the  girl,  and  educated  her  as  her  own  daughter.  The 
two  friends  on  each  side  had  wrought  themselves  to  such 
an  habitual  tenderness  for  the  children  who  were  under 

'"There's  no  fooling  with  Life  wlien   it   is  once  tiirn'd  beyonc? 
Forty." — Cowley's  Essoy  on  (he  Danger  of  Procrastination. 
'  Supply  accomplish. 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  AN  HEIR  107 

their  direction,  that  each  of  them  liad  the  real  passion  of 
a  father,  where  the  title  was  but  imaginary.  Florio,  the 
name  of  the  young  heir  that  lived  with  Leontine,  though 
he  had  all  the  duty  and  affection  imaginable  for  his  sup- 
posed parent,  was  taught  to  rejoice  at  the  sight  of  Eu- 
doxus,  who  visited  his  friend  very  frequently,  and  was  dic- 
tated ^  by  his  natural  affection,  as  well  as  by  the  rules  of 
prudence,  to  make  himself  esteemed  and  beloved  by  Florio. 
The  boy  was  now  old  enough  to  know  his  supposed  father's 
circumstances,  and  that  ^  therefore  he  ^  Avas  to  make  his 
way  in  the  world  by  his  own  industry.  This  consideration 
grew  stronger  in  him  every  day,  and  produced  so  good  an 
effect  that  he  applied  himself  with  more  than  ordinary  at- 
tention to  the  pursuit  of  everything  which  Leontine  rec- 
ommended to  him.  His  natural  abilities,  Avhich  were  very 
good,  assisted  by  the  directions  of  so  excellent  a  counsel- 
lor, enabled  him  to  make  a  quicker  progress  than  ordinary 
through  all  the  parts  of  his  education,  lief  ore  he  was 
twenty  years  of  age,  having  finished  his  studies  and  exer- 
cises with  great  applause,  lie  was  removed  from  the  Uni- 
versity to  the  Inns  of  Court,  where  there  are  very  few  that 
make  themselves  considerable  proficients  in  the  studies  of 
the  place,  who  know  they  shall  arrive  at  great  estates  witli- 
out  them.*  This  was  not  Florio's  case;  he  found  that 
three  hundred  a  year  was  but  a  poor  estate  for  Leontine 
and  himself  to  live  upon,  so  that  he  studied  without  inter- 
mission till  he  gained  a  very  good  insight  into  the  consti- 
tution and  laws  of  his  country. 

I  should  have  told  my  reader,  that  whilst  Florio  lived  at 
the  house  of  his  foster-father  he  was  always  an  acceptable 
guest  in  the  family  of  Eudoxus,  where  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  Leonilla  from  her  infancy.     His  acquaint- 

'Led. 

'  Anacoluthon.     Better,  "  the  necessity  he  was  under  of  making." 
'  Florio. 

*  Arrange  so  as  to  make  the  meaning  clearer.  See  also  note  8, 
p.  21. 


108  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVE  RLE  Y 

ance  with  her,  by  degrees  grew  into  love,  which  in  a  mind 
trained  up  in  all  the  sentiments  of  honor  and  virtue  be- 
came a  very  uneasy  passion.  He  despaired  of  gaining  an 
heiress  of  so  great  a  fortune,  and  would  rather  have  died 
than  attempted  it  by  any  indirect  methods.  Leonilla,  who 
was  a  woman  of  the  greatest  beauty  joined  with  the 
greatest  modesty,  entertained  at  the  same  time  a  secret 
passion  for  Florio,  but  conducted  herself  with  so  much  pru- 
dence that  she  never  gave  him  tlie  least  intimation  of  it. 
Florio  was  now  engaged  in  all  those  arts  and  improvements 
that  are  proper  ^  to  raise  a  man's  private  fortune,  and  give 
him  a  figure  in  his  country,  but  secretly  tormented  with 
that  passion  which  burns  with  the  greatest  fury  in  a  virtu- 
ous and  noble  heart,  when  he  received  a  sudden  summons 
from  Leontine  to  repair  to  him  into  the  country  the  next  day. 
For  it  seems  Eudoxus  was  so  filled  with  the  report  of  his 
son's  reputation  that  he  could  no  longer  withhold  making 
himself  known  to  him.  The  morning  after  his  arrival 
at  the  house  of  his  supposed  father,  Leontine  told  him 
that  Eudoxus  had  something  of  great  importance  to  com- 
municate to  him;  upon  which  the  good  man  embraced  him 
and  wept.  Florio  was  no  sooner  arrived  at  the  great  house 
that  stood  in  his  neighborhood  but  Eudoxus  took  him 
by  the  hand,  after  the  first  salutes  ^  were  over,  and  con- 
ducted him  into  his  closet.  He  there  opened  '  to  him  the 
whole  secret  of  his  parentage  and  education,  concluding 
aft€r  this  manner:  "  I  have  no  other  way  left  of  acknowl- 
edging my  gratitude  to  Leontine  than  by  marrying  you  to 
his  daughter.  He  shall  not  lose  the  pleasure  of  being 
your  father  by  the  discovery  I  have  made  to  you.  Leo- 
nilla, too,  shall  be  still  my  daughter;  her  filial  piety,  though 
misplaced,  has  been  so  exemplary  that  it  deserves  the 
greatest  reward  I  can  confer  upon  it.  You  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  a  great  estate  fall  to  you,  which  you 
would  have  lost  the  relish  of  had  you    known   yourself 

'Fitted.  'Salutations.  'Disclosed. 


TUF^  EDUCATION  OF  AN  HEIR  109 

born  to  it.  Continue  only  to  deserve  it  in  the  same  manner 
you  did  before  you  were  posseissed  of  it.  I  have  left  your 
mother  in  the  next  room.  Her  heart  yeariis  towards  you. 
She  is  making  the  same  discoveries  '  to  Leonilla  which  I 
have  made  to  yourself."  Florio  was  so  overwhelmed  with 
this  profusion  of  happiness  that  he  was  not  able  to  make 
a  reply,  but  threw  himself  down  at  his  father's  feet,  and 
amidst  a  flood  of  tears  kissed  and  embraced  his  knees,  ask- 
ing his  blessing,  and  expressing  in  dumb  show  those  senti- 
ments of  love,  duty,  and  gratitude  that  were  too  big  for 
utterance.  To  conclude,  the  hapi)y  pair  were  married,  and 
half  Eudoxus's  estate  settled  upon  them.  Leontiue  and 
Eudoxus  passed  the  remainder  of  their  lives  together;  and 
received  in  the  dutiful  and  affectionate  behavior  of  Florio 
and  Leonilla  the  just  recompense,  as  well  as  the  natural 
effects,  of  that  care  which  they  had  bestowed  upon  them 
in  their  education. ^  L. 

'  Disclosures. 

*  After  finishing  this  essay,  Addison  wrote  the  following  letter  to 
Mr.  Edward  Wortley  Montagu  : 

"Dear  Sir — Being  very  well  pleased  with  this  day's  Speciafor, 
I  cannot  forbear  sending  you  one  of  them,  and  desiring  your  opinion 
of  the  story  in  it.  When  you  liave  a  son  I  sliall  bo  glad  to  bo  liis 
Leontine,  as  my  circumstances  will  probably  be  like  his.  I  have 
within  this  twelvemonth  lost  a  place  of  .£2000  i)er  annum,  an  estate 
in  the  Indies  of  £14000,''  and  wluit  is  worse  than  all  the  rest,  my 
mistress.""  Hear  this  and  wonder  at  my  philosophy.  I  find  they 
are  going  to  take  away  my  Irish  place''  fi-om  me  too  ;  to  which  I 
must  add  that  I  have  just  resigned  my  fellowship  and  that  stocks 
sink  every  day.  If  you  have  any  hints  or  subjects,  pray  send  me  up 
a  paper  full.  I  long  to  talk  an  evening  with  you.  I  believe  1  shall 
not  go  for  Ireland  this  summer,  and  perhaps  would  pass  a  month 
with  you,  if  I  knew  where.  Lady  Bellasis  is  very  much  your  humble 
servant.     Dick  Steele  and  I  often  remember  you. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  eternally, 

"July  21,  1711.  "       "Joseph  Addison." 

»  What  he  refers  to  is  not  certainly  known. 

«>  Doubtless  this  refers  to  a  lover's  quarrel  with  the  Countess  of  Warwick,  a  per- 
verse widow  whom  he  afterwards  married. 
•  He  was  chief  secretary  to  Lord  Wharton,  lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland. 


110  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 


XXII. 

SIR    ROGER    AND    PARTY    SPIRIT. 

[Spectatar  No.  125.     Tuesday,  July  24,  1711.     Addison."] 

Ne,  pueri,  ne  tanta  animis  assuescite  bella  : 
Neu  patriae  validas  in  viscera  vertite  vires. 

Virgil. 

My  worthy  friend.  Sir  Eoger,  when  we  are  talking  of 
the  malice  of  parties,  very  frequently  tells  us  an  accident 
that  happened  to  him  when  he  was  a  school-boy,  which 
was  at  a  time  when  the  feuds  ran  high  between  the 
Roundheads  ^  and  Cavaliers.^  This  worthy  knight,  being 
then  but  a  stripling,  had  occasion  to  inquire  which  was 
the  way  to  St.  Anne's  Lane,  upon  which  the  person  whom 
he  spoke  to,  instead  of  answering  his  question,  called  him 
a  young  popish  cur,  and  asked  him  who  had  made  Anne  a 
saint!  The  boy,  being  in  some  confusion,  inquired  of  the 
next  he  met,  which  was  tlie  way  to  Aime's  Lane;  but  xvis 
called  a  prick-eared  cur  for  his  pains,  and  instead  of  being 
shown  the  way,  was  told  that  she  had  been  j(  saint  before  he 
was  born,  and  would  be  one  after  he  was  hanged.  "  Upon 
this,"  says  Sir  Roger,  ''I  did  not  think  fit  to  repeat  the 
fonner  question,  but  going  into  every  lane  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, asked  what  they  called  the  name  of  that  lane." 
By  which  ingenious  artifice  he  found  out  the  place  he  in- 
quired after,  without  giving  offence  to  any  party.  Sir 
Roger  generally  closes  this  narrative  with  reflections  on  the 
mischief  that  parties  do  in  the  country;  how  they  spoil 
good  neighborhood,  and  make  honest  gentlemen  hate  one 
another;  besides  that  tliey  manifestly  tend  to  the  prejudice 
of  the  land-tax,  and  the  destruction  of  the  game.^ 

'  The  partisans  of  the  Commonwealth  ami  of  the  King. 
'  What  thoughts  arc  upperraott  in  Sir  Roger's  mind  ? 


SIR   ROGER   AND   PARTY  SPIRIT  \\l 

There  cannot  a  greater  judgment  befall  a  country  than 
such  a  dreadful  spirit  of  division  us  rends  a  government 
into  two  distinct  people,  and  makes  them  greater  stran- 
gers and  more  averse  to  one  another  than  if  they  were  actu- 
ally two  different  nations.  The  elfects  of  such  a  division 
are  pernicious  to  the  last  degree,  not  only  with  regard  to 
those  advantages  which  they  give  the  common  enemy,  but 
to  those  private  evils  which  they  produce  in  the  heart  of 
almost  every  particular  person.  This  influence  is  very  fatal 
both  to  men's  morals  and  their  understandings;  it  sinks 
the  virtue  of  a  nation,  and  not  only  so,  but  destroys  even 
common  sense. 

A  furious  party  spirit,  when  it  rages  in  its  full  violence, 
exerts  itself  in  civil  war  and  bloodshed;  and  when  it  is 
under  its  greatest  restraints  naturally  breaks  out  in  false- 
hood, detraction,  calumny,  and  a  partial  administration  of 
justice.  In  a  word,  it  fills  a  nation  with  spleen  and  rancor, 
and  extinguishes  all  the  seeds  of  good-nature,  compassio"n, 
and  humanity. 

Plutarch  says,'  very  finely,  that  a  man  should  not  allow 
himself  to  hate  even  his  enemies; — "Because,"  says  he, 
'*  if  you  indulge  this  passion  in  some  occasions,  it  will  rise 
of  itself  in  others;  if  you  hate  your  enemies,  you  will  .con- 
tract such  a  vicious  habit  of  mind  as  by  degrees  will  break 
out  upon  those  who  are  your  friends,  or  those  who  are  in- 
different to  you."  I  might  here  observe  how  admirably 
this  precept  of  morality  (which  derives  the  malignity  of 
hatred  from  the  passion  itself,  and  not  from  its  object) 
answers  to  that  great  rule  which  was  dictated  ^  to  the  world 
about  an  hundred  years  before  this  philosopher  wrote;  but 
instead  of  that,  I  shall  only  take  notice,  with  a  real  grief 
of  heart,  that  the  minds  of  many  good  men  among  us 
appear  soured  with  party  principles,  and  alienated  from 
one  another  in  such  a  manner  as  seems  to  me  altogether 


*  Moral  Essays:  "  How  One  shall  be  helped  by  Enemies." 
'By  whom  ?    Where  is  it  recorded  ? 


112  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVER  LEV 

inconsistent  with  the  dictates  either  of  reason  or  religion. 
/Zeal  for  a  public  cause  is  apt  to  breed  passions  in  the  hearts 
of  virtuous  persons  to  which  the  regard  of  ^  their  own  pri- 
vate interest  would  never  have  betra3'ed  them. 

If  this  party  spirit  has  so  ill  an  effect  on  our  morals,  it 
has  likewise  a  very  great  one  upon  our  judgments.  We 
often  hear  a  poor,  insipid  paper  or  pamphlet  cried  up,  and 
sometimes  a  noble  piece  depreciated,  by  those  who  are  of 
a  different  principle  from  the  author.  One  who  is  actuated 
by  this  spirit  is  almost  under  an  incapacity  of  discerning 
either  real  blemishes  or  beauties.  A  man  of  merit  in  a 
different  principle,^  is  like  au  object  seen  in  two  different 
mediums,  that  appears  crooked  or  broken,  however  straight 
or  entire  it  may  be  in  itself.^  For  this  reason,  there  is 
scarce  a  person  of  any  figure  in  England  who  does  not  go 
by  two  contrary  characters,  as  opposite  to  one  another  as 
light  and  darkness.  Knowledge  and  learning  suffer  in  a 
particular  manner  from  this  strange  prejudice,  which  at 
present  prevails  amongst  all  ranks  and  degrees  in  the  Brit- 
ish nation.  As  men  formerly  became  eminent  in  leai'ned 
societies  by  their  parts  and  acquisitions,  they  now  distin- 
guish themselves  by  the  warmth  and  violence  with  which 
they  espouse  their  respective  parties.  Books  are  valued 
upon  the  like  considerations.  An  abusive,  scurrilous  style 
passes  for  satire,  and  a  dull  scheme  of  party  notions  is 
called  fine  writing. 

There  is  one  piece  of  sophistry  practiced  by  both  sides, 
and  that  is  the  taking  any  scandalous  story  that  has  been 
ever  whispered  or  invented  of  a  private  man,  for  a  known, 
undoubted  truth,  and  raising  suitable  speculations  upon  it. 
Calumnies  that  have  been  never  proved,  or  have  been  often 
refuted,  are  the  ordinary  postulatums  ■*  of  these  infamous 
scribblers,  upon  which  they  proceed  as  upon  first  principles 
granted  by  all  men,  though  in  their  hearts  they  know  they 

'  A  regard  for.        '  Whose  political  principles  differ  from  our  own. 
'  E.g.,ei  stick  in  a  dish  of  water — the  "two  mediums  "  being  water 
and  air.  *  Things  taken  for  granted. 


SIR  ROGER  AND   PARTY  SPIRIT  113 

are  false,  or  at  best  very  doubtful.  When  they  have  laid 
these  foundations  of  scurrility,  it  is  no  wonder  that  their 
superstructure  is  every  way  answerable  to  them.  If  this 
shameless  practice  of  the  present  age  endures  much  longer/ 
praise  and  reproach  will  cease  to  be  motives  of  action  in 
good  ^  men. 

There  are  certain  periods  of  time  in  all  governments 
when  this  inhuman  spirit  prevails.  Italy  was  long  torn  in 
I)ieces  by  the  Guelphs  and  Ghibellincs,-'  and  France  by 
those  who  were  for  and  against  the  League:  ''  but  it  is  very 
unhappy  for  a  man  to  be  born  in  such  a  stormy  and  tem- 
pestuous season.  It  is  the  restless  ambition  of  artful  men 
that  thus  breaks  a  people  into  factions,  and  draws  several 
well-meaning  persons  to  their  interest  by  a  specious  ■''  con- 
cern for  their  country.  IIow  many  honest  minds  are  filled 
with  uncharitable  and  bar])arous  notions,  out  of  their  zeal 
for  the  public  good!  What  cruelties  and  outrages  would 
they  not  commit  against  men  of  an  adverse  party,  whom 
they  would  honor  and  esteem,  if,  instead  of  considering 
them  as  they  are  represented,  they  knew  them  as  they  are! 
Thus  are  persons  of  the  greatest  probity  seduced  into 
shameful  errors  and  prejudices,  and  made  bad  men  even  by 
that  noblest  of  principles,  the  "love  of  their  country."  ^ 
I  cannot  here  forbear  mentioning  the  famous  Spanish 
proverb,  "  If  there  were  neither  fools  nor  knaves  in  the 
world,  all  people  would  be  of  one  mind." 

For  my  own  part,  I  could  heartily  Avish  that  all  honest 
men  would  enter  into  an  association  for  the  support  of  one 
another  against  the  endeavors  of  those  whom  they  ought 

'Has  it  ?  "Is  this  loj,neal  ? 

*  In  Dante's  time  tlie  Guelphs  were  the  partisans  of  the  Pope,  and  the 
Ghibellines  those  of  the  German  emperors. 

*  The  Guises  were  at  the  head  of  tlie  Confederation  of  tlie  League, 
which  made  war  upon  the  Bourbon  princes  with  great  fury  from  the 
Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew  (1573)  till  the  accession  of  Henry  of 
Navarre  (1589). 

'  Ostensible ;  pretended. 

'  Find  Madame  Roland's  famous  apostrophe  to  Liberty,  as  she  stood 
upon  the  scaffold. 


114  SIB  ROGER  BE  COVERLET 

to  look  upon  as  their  common  enemies,  whatsoever  side 
they  may  belong  to.  Were  there  such  an  honest  body  of 
neatral  forces,  we  should  never  see  the  worst  of  men  in 
great  figures  of  life,  because  they  are  useful  to  a  party;  nor 
the  best  unregarded,  because  they  are  above  practicing 
those  methods  which  would  be  grateful  to  their  faction. 
AVe  should  then  single  every  criminal  out  of  the  herd, 
and  hunt  him  down,  however  formidable  and  overgrown 
he  might  appear:  on  the  contrary,  we  should  shelter  dis- 
tressed innocence,  and  defend  virtue,  however  beset  with 
contempt  or  ridicule,  envy,  or  defamation.  In  short,  we 
should  not  any  longer  regard  our  fellow  subjects  as  whigs 
or  tories,  but  should  make  the  man  of  merit  our  friend, 
and  the  villain  our  enemy.'  C. 

'  There  is  a  long  and  interesting  note  on  party  spirit  in  Addison's 
time  in  G.  W.  Greene's  edition  of  Addisan'&  Vtorlis^  vol.  iv.,  p.  344. 


PARTY  PREJUDICE  115 


XXIII. 

PARTY    PREJUDICE. 
[Spectator  No.  126.     Wednesday,  July  25,  1711.     Addison.^ 

Tros  Rutulusve  fiiat,  nullo  diserimine  habebo. 

Virgil. 

In  my  yesterday's  paper,  I  proposed  that  the  honest  men 
of  all  parties  should  enter  into  a  kind  of  association  for 
the  defence  of  one  another  and  the  confusion  of  their  com- 
mon enemies.  As  it  is  designed  this  neutral  body  should 
act  with  a  regard  to  nothing  but  truth  and  equity,  and 
divest  themselves  of  the  little  heats  and  prepossessions  that 
cleave  to  parties  of  all  kinds,  I  have  prepared  for  them 
the  following  form  of  an  association,  Avhich  may  express 
their  intentions  in  the  most  plain  and  simple  manner: 

We  whose  names  are  hereunto  subscribed,  do  solemnly 
declare  that  we  do  in  our  consciences  believe  two  and  two 
make  four;  and  that  we  shall  adjudge  any  man  whatso- 
ever to  be  our  enemy  who  endeavors  to  persuade  us  to  tbe 
contrary. 

We  are  likewise  ready  to  maintain,  with  the  hazard  of 
all  that  is  near  and  dear  to  us,  that  six  is  less  than  seven 
in  all  times  and  all  places,  and  that  ten  will  not  be  more 
three  years  hence  than  it  is  at  present. 

We  do  also  firmly  declare,  that  it  is  our  resolution  as  long 
as  we  live  to  call  Black  black,  and  White  white.  And  we 
shall  upon  all  occasions  oppose  such  persons  that,'  upon 
any  day  of  the  year,  shall  call  Black  white,  or  White 
black,  with  the  utmost  peril  of  our  lives  and  fortunes. 

Were  there  such  a  combination  of  honest  men,  who 
without  any  regard  to  places  Avould  endeavor  to  extirpate 


As. 


116  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

all  such  furious  zealots  as  would  sacrifice  one  half  of  their 
country  to  the  passion  and  interest  of  the  other;  as  also 
such  infamous  hypocrites  that  ^  are  for  promoting  their  own 
advantage  under  color  of  the  public  good;  with  all  the 
profligate,  immoral  retainers  to  each  side,  that  have  noth- 
ing to  recommend  them  but  an  implicit  submission  to  their 
leaders;  =^ — we  should  soon  see  that  furious  party  spirit  ex- 
tinguished, which  may  in  time  expose  us  to  the  derision 
and  contempt  of  all  the  nations  about  us. 

A  member  of  this  society  that  would  thus  carefully 
employ  himself  in  making  room  for  merit,  by  throwing 
down  the  worthless  and  depraved  part  of  mankind  from 
those  conspicuous  stations  of  life  to  which  they  have  been 
sometimes  advanced,  and  all  this  without  any  regard  to 
his  private  interest,  would  be  no  small  benefactor  to  his 
country. 

I  remember  to  have  read  in  Diodorus  Siculus^  an  ac- 
count of  a  very  active  little  animal,  which  I  think  he  calls 
the  ichneumon,  that  makes  it  the  whole  business  of  his  life 
to  break  the  eggs  of  the  crocodile,  which  he  is  always  in 
search  after.  This  instinct  is  the  more  remarkable  be- 
cause the  ichneumon  never  feeds  upon  the  eggs  he  has 
broken,  nor  in  any  other  way  finds  his  account  in  them. 
Were  it  not  for  the  incessant  labors  of  this  industrious  ani- 
mal, Egypt,  says  the  historian,  would  be  overrun  with 
crocodiles;  for  the  Egyptians  are  so  far  from  destroying 
those  pernicious  creatures  that  they  worship  them  as  gods. 

If  we  look  into  the  behavior  of  ordinary  partisans,  we 
shall  find  them  far  from  resembling  this  disinterested  ani- 
mal, and  rather  acting  after  the  example  of  the  wild 
Tartars,  who  are  ambitious  of  destroying  a  man  of  the 
most  extraordinary  parts  and  accomplishments,  as  thinking 
that  upon  his  decease  the  same  talents,  whatever  post  they 
qualified  him  for,  enter  of  course  into  his  destroyer. 

'As.  " The  ' ' bosses "  of  to-day, 

*  Bibliothecae  Uistoricae,  book  i.,  §  35.  i 


PARTY  PREJUDICE  117 

As  in  the  whole  train  of  my  speculations  I  have  endeav- 
ored, as  much  as  I  am  able,  to  extinguish  that  pernicious 
spirit  of  passion  and  prejudice  which  rages  with  the  same 
violence  in  all  parties,  I  am  still  the  more  desirous  of 
doing  some  good  in  this  particular  because  I  observe  that 
the  spirit  of  party  reigns  more  in  the  country  than  in 
the  town.  It  here  contracts  a  kind  of  brutality  and  rus- 
tic fierceness  to  which  men  of  a  politer  conversation  are 
wholly  strangers.  It  extends  itself  even  to  the  return  of 
the  bow  and  the  hat;  and  at  the  same  time  that  the  heads 
of  parties  preserve  toward  one  another  an  outward  show  of 
good  breeding,  and  keep  up  a  perpetual  intercourse  of  civili- 
ties, their  tools  that  are  dispersed  in  these  otitlying  parts 
will  not  so  much  as  mingle  together  at  a  cock-match. 
This  humor  fills  the  country  with  several  periodical  meet- 
ings of  Whig  jockeys  and  Tory  fox-hunters,  not  to  men- 
tion the  innumerable  curses,  frowns,  and  whispers  it  pro- 
duces at  a  quarter  sessions. 

I  do  not  know  whether  I  have  observed,  in  any  of  my 
former  papers,  that  my  friends  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  and 
Sir  Andrew  Freeport  are  of  different  principles;  the  first 
of  them  inclined  to  the  landed  and  the  other  to  the  mon- 
eyed interest.^  This  humor  is  so  moderate  in  each  of  them 
that  it  proceeds  no  farther  than  to  an  agreeable  raillery, 
which  very  often  diverts  the  rest  of  the  club.  I  find, 
however,  that  the  knight  is  a  much  stronger  Tory  in  the 
country  than  in  town,  which,  as  he  has  told  me  in  my  ear, 
is  absolutely  necessary  for  the  keeping  up  his  interest.  In 
all  our  journey  from  London  to  his  house  we  did  not  so 
much  as  bait  at  a  AVhig  inn;  or  if  by  chance  the  coachman 
stopped  at  a  wrong  place,  one  of  Sir  Roger's  servants  would 
ride  up  to  his  master  full  speed,  and  whisper  to  him  that 
the  master  of  the  house  was  against  such  an  one  in  the  last 
election.  This  often  betrayed  us  into  hard  beds  and  bad 
cheer;  for  we  were  not  so  inquisitive  about  the  inn  as  the 

'  Which  was  the  Whig  and  which  the  Tory  ? 


118  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVE  RLE  Y 

innkeeper,  and,  provided  our  landlord's  principles  were 
sound,  did  not  take  any  notice  of  the  staleness  of  liis  provi- 
sions. This  I  found  still  the  more  inconvenient  because 
the  better  the  host  was,  the  worse  generally  were  his  accom- 
modations; the  fellow  knowing  very  well  that  those  who 
were  his  friends  would  take  up  with  coarse  diet  and  an 
hard  lodging.  For  these  reasons,  all  the  while  I  was  upon 
the  road  I  dreaded  entering  into  an  house  of  any  one  that 
Sir  Roger  had  applauded  for  an  honest  man. 

Since  my  stay  at  Sir  Roger's  in  the  country,  I  daily  find 
more  instances  of  this  narrow  party-humor.  Being  upon 
a  bowling-green  at  a  neighboring  market-town  the  other 
day  (for  that  is  the  place  where  the  gentlemen  of  one  side 
meet  once  a  week),  I  observed  a  stranger  among  them  of  a 
better  presence  and  genteeler  behavior  than  ordinary;  but 
was  much  surprised  that,  notwithstanding  he  was  a  very 
fair  better,^  nobody  would  take  him  up.  But,  upon  in- 
quiry, I  found  that  he  was  one  who  had  given  a  disagree- 
able vote  in  a  former  parliament,  for  which  reason  there 
was  not  a  man  upon  that  bowling-green  who  would  liave  so 
much  correspondence  with  him  as  to  win  his  money  of 
him. 

Among  other  instances  of  this  nature,  I  must  not  omit 
one  which  concerns  myself.  Will  Wimble  was  the  other 
day  relating  several  strange  stories,  that  he  had  picked  up 
nobody  knows  where,  of  a  certain  great  man,  and  upon 
my  staring  at  him,  as  one  that  was  surprised  to  hear  such 
things  in  the  country,  which  had  never  been  so  much  as 
whispered  in  the  town.  Will  stopped  short  in  the  thread  of 
his  discourse,  and  after  dinner  asked  my  friend  Sir  Roger 
in  his  ear  if  he  was  sure  that  I  was  not  a  fanatic. 

It  gives  me  a  serious  concern  to  see  such  a  spirit  of  dis- 
sension in  the  country;  not  only  as  it  destroys  virtue  and 
common   sense,  and   renders  us  in  a  manner  barbarians 

*  There  is  a  lack  of  euphony  from  a  repetition  of  "  better,"  as  well 
as  some  confusion  of  thought  from  its  use  in  a  different  sense. 


PARTY  PREJUDICE  119 

towards  one  another,  but  as  it  perpetuates  our  animosities, 
widens  our  breaches,  and  transmits  our  present  passions 
and  prejudices  to  our  posterity.  For  my  own  part,  I  am 
sometimes  afraid  that  I  discover  tlie  seeds  of  a  civil  war  ^ 
in  these  our  divisions,  and  therefore  cannot  but  bewail,  as 
in  their  first  principles,  the  miseries  and  calamities  of  our 
children.  C. 

*What  was  the  last  civil  war  in  England  before  Addison  wrote? 
Did  the  American  Revolution  arise  from  any  such  cause  as  Addison 
feared  ? 


120  Sm  ROGER  DE  COVERLET 

XXIV. 

GYPSIES. 
[Spectator  No.  IBO.     Monday,  Julij  30,  1711.     Addison.] 


Semperque  recentes 

Convectare  juvat  praedas,  et  vivere  rapto. 

Virgil. 

As  I  was  yesterday  riding  out  in  the  fields  with  my 
friend  Sir  Roger,  we  saw  at  a  little  distance  from  iis  a 
troop  of  gypsies.  Upon  the  first  discovery  of  them,  my 
friend  was  in  some  doubt  whether  he  should  not  exert  the 
justice  of  the  peace  ^  upon  such  a  band  of  lawless  vagrants; 
but  not  having  his  clerk  with  him,  who  is  a  necessary 
counsellor  on  these  occasions,'^  and  fearing  that  his  poultry 
might  fare  the  worse  for  it,  he  let  the  thought  drop;  but 
at  the  same  time  gave  me  a  particular  account  of  the  mis- 
chiefs they  do  in  the  country,  in  stealing  people's  goods 
and  spoiling  their  servants.  "If  a  stray  piece  of  linen 
hangs  upon  an  hedge,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "they  are  sure  to 
have  it;  if  the  hog  loses  his  way  in  the  fields,  it  is  ten  to 
one  but  he  becomes  their  prey;  our  geese  cannot  live  in 
peace  for  them;  if  a  man  prosecutes  them  with  severity, 
his  hen-roost  is  sure  to  pay  for  it.  They  generally  straggle 
into  these  parts  about  this  time  of  the  year,  and  set  the 
heads  of  our  servant-maids  so  agog  for  husbands  that  we 
do  not  expect  to  have  any  business  done  as  it  should  be 
whilst  they  are  in  the  country.  I  have  an  honest  dairy- 
maid who  crosses  their  hands  with  a  piece  of  silver  every 
summer,  and  never  fails  being  promised  the  handsomest 
young  fellow  in  the  parish  ior  her  pains.  Your  friend, 
the  butler,  has  been  fool  enough  to  be  seduced  by  them ; 

*  Exercise  his  authority  as  justice  of  the  peace.  '  Why  ? 


GYPSIES  121 

and,  though  he  is  sure  to  lose  a  knife,  a  fork,  or  a  spoon 
every  time  his  fortune  is  told  him,  generally  shuts  himself 
up  in  the  pantry  with  an  old  gypsy  for  above  half  an  hour 
once  in  a  twelvemonth.  Sweethearts  are  the  things  they 
live  upon,  which  they  bestow  very  plentifully  upon  all  those 
that  apply  themselves  to  them.  You  see,  now  and  then, 
some  handsome  young  Jades  among  them;  the  sluts  have 
very  often  white  teeth  and  black  eyes. ' ' 

Sir  Roger,  observing  that  I  listened  with  great  attention 
to  his  account  of  a  people  who  were  so  entirely  new  to  me, 
told  me  that  if  I  would  tlie}^  should  tell  us  our  fortunes. 
As  I  was  very  well  pleased  with  the  knight's  proposal,  we  rid 
up  and  communicated  our  hands  to  them.  A  Cassandra  ^ 
of  the  crew,  after  having  examined  my  lines  ^  very  dili- 
gently, told  me  that  I  loved  a  pretty  maid  in  a  corner; 
that  I  was  a  good  woman's  man ;  with  some  other  particu- 
lars which  I  do  not  think  proper  to  relate.  My  friend  Sir 
Roger  alighted  from  his  horse,  and  exposing  his  palm  to 
two  or  three  that  stood  by  him,  they  crumpled  it  into  all 
shapes,  and  diligently  scanned  every  wrinkle  that  could  be 
made  in  it;  when  one  of  them,  who  was  older  and  more 
sunburnt  than  the  rest,  told  him  that  he  had  a  widow  in 
his  line  of  life;  ^  upon  which  the  knight  cried,  "Go,  go, 
you  are  an  idle  baggage";  and  at  the  same  time  smiled 
upon  me.  The  gypsy,  finding  he  was  not  displeased  in  his 
heart,  told  him,  after  a  farther  inquiry  into  his  hand,  that 
his  true  love  was  constant,  and  that  she  should  dream  of 
him  to-night;  my  old  friend  cried  "  Pish!  "  and  bid  her  go 
on.  The  gypsy  told  him  that  he  was  a  bachelor,  but 
Avould  not  be  so  long;  and  that  he  was  dearer  to  somebody 
than  he  thought.  The  knight  still  repeated  she  was  an 
idle  baggage,  and  bid  her  go  on.  ''Ah,  master,"  says 
the  gypsy,    "that  roguish  leer  of  yours  makes  a  pretty 

'  Show  why  this  term  is  inappropriate. 
'  The  wrinkles  in  the  palm  of  the  hand. 

'  The  wrinkle  beginning  near  the  wrist,  halfway  across  the  palm, 
and  sweeping  around  between  the  thumb  and  forefinger. 


122  SIM  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

woman's  heart  ache;  you  ha'n't  that  simper  about  the 
mouth  for  nothing — ."  The  uncouth  gibberish  with 
which  all  this  was  uttered,  like  the  darkness  of  an  oracle, 
made  us  the  more  attentive  to  it.  To  be  short,  the  knight 
left  the  money  with  her  that  he  had  crossed  her  hand  with, 
and  got  up  again  on  his  horse. 

As  we  were  riding  away,  Sir  Koger  told  me  that  he  knew 
several  sensible  people  who  believed  these  gypsies  now  and 
then  foretold  very  strange  things;  and  for  half  an  hour 
together  appeared  more  jocund  than  ordinary.  In  the 
height  of  his  good  humor,  meeting  a  common  beggar  upon 
the  road  who  was  no  conjurer,  as  he  went  to  relieve  him 
he  found  his  pocket  was  picked ;  ^  that  being  a  kind  of  pal- 
mistry 2  at  which  this  race  of  vermin  ^  are  very  dextrous. 

I  might  here  entertain  my  reader  with  historical  re- 
marks on  this  idle,  profligate  people,  who  infest  all  the 
countries  of  Europe,  and  live  in  the  midst  of  governments 
in  a  kind  of  commonwealth  by  themselves.  But  instead 
of  entering  into  observations  of  this  nature,  I  shall  fill  the 
remaining  part  of  my  paper  with  a  story  which  is  still  fresh 
in  Holland,  and  was  printed  in  one  of  our  monthly  accounts 
about  twenty  years  ago : 

"  As  the  trekschuyt,  or  hackney  boat,  which  carries 
passengers  from  Leyden  to  Amsterdam,  was  putting  off,  a 
boy  running  along  the  side  of  the  canal  desired  to  be  taken 
in :  which  the  master  of  the  boat  refused,  because  the  lad 
had  not  quite  money  enough  to  pay  the  usual  fare.*  An 
eminent  merchant  being  pleased  with  the  looks  of  the 
boy,  and  secretly  touched  with  compassion  towards  him, 
paid  the  money  for  him,  and  ordered  him  to  be  taken  on 
board. 

'"Upon  talking  with  him  afterwards,  he  found  that  he 

*  Had  been  picked. 

'Another  pun.     See  note  10,  p.  27,  and  note 3,  p.  41. 

•.See  note  3,  p.  75.     Addison  referb,  of  course,  to  the  gypsies. 

*  Six  or  seven  cents. 


VYPSIES  ]'>3 

could  speak  readily  in  three  or  four  languages,  and  learned 
upon  farther  examination  that  he  had  been  stolen  away 
Avhen  he  was  a  child,  by  a  gypsy,  and  liad  rambled  ever 
since  with  a  gang  of  those  strollers  up  and  down  several 
parts  of  Europe.  It  happened  that  tlic  merchant,  whose 
heart  seems  to  have  inclined  towards  the  boy  by  a  secret 
kind  of  instinct,  had  himself  lost  a  child  some  years 
before.  The  parents,  after  a  long  ^search  for  him,  gave 
him  for  drowned  in  one  of  the  canals  with  which  that 
country*  abounds;  and  the  motlier  was  so  afflicted  at  the 
loss  of  a  fine  boy,  who  was  her  only  son,  that  she  died  for 
grief  of  it. 

"  Upon  laying  together  all  particulars,  and  examining  the 
several  moles  and  marks  by  which  the  mother  used  to  de- 
scribe the  child  when  he  was  first  missing,  the  boy  proved 
to  be  the  son  of  the  merchant  whose  heart  had  so  unac- 
countably melted  at  the  sight  of  him.  The  lad  was  very 
well  pleased  to  find  a  father  who  was  so  rich,  and  likely  to 
leave  him  a  good  estate:  the  father,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  not  a  little  delighted  to  see  a  son  return  to  him,  whom 
he  had  given  for  lost,  with  such  a  strength  of  constitu- 
tion,2  sharpness  of  understanding,  and  skill  in  languages." 

Here  the  printed  story  leaves  off;  but  if  I  may  give 
credit  to  reports,  our  linguist  having  received  such  ex- 
traordinary rudiments  towards  a  good  education,  was  after- 
wards trained  up  in  everything  that  becomes  a  gentleman; 
wearing  off  by  little  and  little  all  the  vicious  habits  and 
practices  that  he  had  been  used  to  iii  the  course  of  his 
peregrinations.  Nay,  it  is  said  that  he  has  since  been  em- 
ployed in  foreign  courts  upon  national  business,  with  great 
reputation  to  himself  and  honor  to  those  who  sent  him, 
and  that  he  has  visited  several  countries  as  a  public  min- 
ister, in  which  he  formerly  wandered  as  a  gypsy.  C. 

'  Holland.  *  Arrange  in  a  better  order. 


124  SIR  HOQER  BE  COVERLEY 

XXV. 

A    SUMMOiSrS   TO   LONDON". 

[Spectator  No.  131.     T'uesday,  July  31,  1711,     Addison.'] 

Ipsae  rursum  concedite  sylvae. 

Virgil. 

It  is  usual  for  a  man  who  loves  country  sports  to  pre- 
serve the  game  in  liis  own  ^mt^H^and  di\;ert  himself  upon 
those  that  belong  to  his  neighbor.  My  friend  Sir  Roger 
generally  go^s  two  or  three  miles  from  his  house,  and  gets 
into  the  frontiers  of  his  estate,  before  he  beats  about  in 
search  of  a  haYe  or  partridge,  on  purpose  to  spare  his  own 
fields,  where  he  is  always  sure  of  finding  diversion  when 
the  worst  comes  to  the  worst.  By  this  means  the  breg^ 
about  his  house  has  time  to  increase  and  multiply;  besides 
that  the  sport  is  the  more  agreeable  where  the  game  is  the 
harder  to  come  at,  and  where  it  does  not  lie  so  thick  as  to 
produce  any  perplexity  or  confusion  in  the  pursuit.  For 
these  reasons  the  country  gentleman,  like  the  fox,  seldom 
preys  near  his  own  home. 

In  the  same  manner  I  have  made  a  month's  excursion  ^ 
out  of  the  town,  which  is  the  great  field  of  game  for 
sportsmen  of  my  species,  to  try  my  fortune  in  the  country, 
where  I  have  started  several  subjects  and  hunted  them 
down,2  with  some  pleasure  to  myself,  and  I  hope  to  others. 
I  am  here  forced  to  use  a  great  deal  of  diligence  before 
I  can  spring^  anything  to  my  mind ;  whereas  in  town, 
Avhilst  I  am  following  one  character,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  I 
am  crossed  in  my  way  by  another,  and  put  up  such  a 
variety  of  odd  creatures  in  both  sexes  that  they  foil '  the 

'  Note  the  date  of  Spectator  No.  106. 

'See  note  5,  p.  16.  'Snare  ;  catch,  as  game. 


A   SU2MMOXS   TO  LONDON  125 

scent  of  one  another,  and  puzzle  the  chase.  Mj  greatest 
difficulty  in  the  country  is  to  lind  sport,  and,  in  town,  to 
choose  it.  In  the  meantime,  as  I  have  given  a  whole 
month's  rest  to  the  cities  of  London  and  Westminster,  I 
promise  myself  abundance  of  new  game  upon  my  return 
thither.  1 

It  is  indeed  high  time  for  me  to  leave  the  country, 
since  I  find  the  whole  neighborhood  begin  to  grow  very 
-inquisitive  after  my  name  and  cluu'acter;  my  love  of  soli- 
tude, taciturnity,  and  particular  way  of  life,  having  raised 
a  great  curiosity  in  all  these  parts. 

The  notions  which  have  been  framed  of  me  are  various: 
some  look  upon  me  as  very  proud,  some  as  very  modest, 
and  some  as  very  melancholy.  Will  Wimble,  as  my  friend 
the  butler  tells  me,  observing  me  very  much  alone,  and 
extremely  silent  when  I  am  in  couipany,  is  afraid  I  have 
killed  a  man.  The  country  people  seem  to  suspect  me  for 
a  conjurer;  and,  some  of  them  hearing  of  the  visit  which 
I  made  to  Moll  White,  will  needs  have  it  that  Sir  Roger  has 
brought  down  a  cunning  man  with  him,  to  cure  the  old 
woman,  and  free  the  country  from  her  charms.  So  that 
the  character  which  I  go  under  in  part  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, is  what  they  here  call  a  "  White  Witch."  ^ 

A  justice  of  peace,  who  lives  about  five  miles  off,  and  is 
not  of  Sir  Roger's  party,  has,  it  seems,  said  twice  or  thrice 
at  his  table  that  he  wishes  ^  Sir  Roger  does  not  harbor  a 

'  Notice  the  continued  metaphor  in  this  paragraph. 

*  "  At  least  as  little  honest  as  he  coukl, 

And,  like  white  witches,  mischievously  good.'' 

Dkydex. 

White  spirits  caused  stolen  goods  to  be  restored,  and  charmed  awav 
diseases,  but  were  not  wholly  averse  to  mischief  ;  black  spirits  did 
only  harm  ;  gray  spirits  did  both  good  and  ill.  In  Macbeth  (Act  IV. 
Sc.  i.),  in  an  old  song  probably  much  older  than  Shakespeare,  and  also 
in  Middleton's  Witch  (Act  V.  Sc.  ii.),  are  the  lines  : 

"  Black  spirits  and  white, 

Blue  [in  some  e<litions  red]  spirits  and  gray, 
Mingle,  mingle,  mingle, 
You  that  mingle  may." 

'  Hopes, 


126  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

Jesuit  in  his  house,  and  that  he  thinks  the  gentlemen  of 
the  country  would  do  very  well  to  make  me  give  some 
account  of  myself. 

On  the  other  side,  some  of  Sir  Roger's  friends  are 
afraid  the  old  knight  is  imposed  upon  by  a  designing  fel- 
low, and  as  they  have  heard  that  he  converses  ^  very  pro- 
miscuously, Avhen  he  is  in  town,  do  not  know  but  he  has 
brought  down  with  him  some  discarded  Whig,  that  is  sul- 
len and  says  nothing  because  he  is  out  of  place. 

Such  is  the  variety  of  opinions  which  are  here  enter- 
tained of  me,  so  that  I  pass  among  some  for  a  disaffected 
person,  and  among  others  for  a  popish  priest;  among  some 
for  a  wizard,  and  among  others  for  a  murderer:  and  all 
this  for  no  other  reason,  that  I  can  imagine,  but  because 
I  do  not  hoot  and  hollow  and  make  a  noise.  It  is  true 
my  friend  Sir  Roger  tells  them,  that  it  is  my  wat/,  and 
that  I  am  only  a  philosopher;  but  this  will  not  satisfy 
them.  They  think  there  is  more  in  me  than  he  discovers, 
and  that  I  do  not  hold  my  tongue  for  nothing. 

For  these  and  other  reasons  I  shall  set  out  for  London 
to-morrow,  having  found  by  experience  that  the  country  is 
not  a  place  for  a  person  of  my  temper,  who  does  not  love 
jollity,  and  what  they  call  good  neighborhood.  A  man 
that  is  out  of  humor  when  an  unexpected  guest  breaks  in 
upOD  him,  and  does  not  care  for  sacrificing  an  afternoon 
to  every  chance-comer;  that  will  be  the  master  of  his  own 
time,  and  the  pursuer  of  his  own  inclinations;  makes  but 
a  very  unsociable  figure  in  this  kind  of  life.  I  shall  there- 
fore retire  into  the  town,^  if  I  may  make  use  of  that  phrase, 
and  get  into  the  crowd  again  as  fast  as  I  can,  in  order  to 
be  alone, ^  I  can  there  raise  what  speculations  I  please 
upon  others,  without  being  observed  myself,  and  at  the 
same  time  enjoy  all  the  advantages  of  company  with  all  the 
privileges  of  solitude.      In  the  meanwhile,  to  finish  the 

'  Associates.        '  What  is  there  that  is  whimsical  in  this  phrase  ? 
'  Define  a  paradox. 


A  SirMMOyS   TO   LONDON  137 

month,  and  conclude  these  my  rural  si)eculations,  I  shall 
here  insert  a  letter  from  my  friend  Will  Honeycomb,  who 
has  not  lived  a  month  for  these  forty  years  out  of  the 
smoke  of  London,  and  rallies  nie  after  his  way  upon  my 
country  life. 

"  Dear  Spec, — I  suppose  this  letter  will  find  thee  picking 
of  daisies,  or  smelling  to  ^  a  lock  of  liay,  or  passing  away 
thy  time  in  some  innocent  country  diversion  of  the  like 
nature.  I  have,  however,  orders  from  tlie  club  to  summon 
thee  lip  to  town,  being  all  -  of  us  cursedly  afraid  thou  wilt 
not  be  able  to  relish  our  company  after  thy  conversations 
with  Moll  White  and  Will  Wimble.  Pr'ythee  don't  send 
us  up  any  more  stories  '^  of  a  cock  and  a  bull,  nor  frighten 
the  town  with  spirits  and  witches.  Thy  speculations  begin 
to  smell  confoundedly  of  woods  and  meadows.  If  thou 
dost  not  come  up  quickly,  we  shall  conclude  that  thou  art 
in  love  with  one  of  Sir  Roger's  dairy-maids.  Service  to  the 
knight.  Sir  Andrew  is  grown  the  cock  of  the  club  since 
he  left  us,  and  if  he  does  not  return  quickly  will  make 
every  mother's  son  of  us  Commonwealth's  men. 
"  Dear  Spec,  thine  eternally, 
C.  "  Will  Hoxeycomb." 

'  Smelling  of.  -  Since  all  of  us  are. 

•Any  more  cock-and-bull  stories. 


128  SIB  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

XXVI. 

A   JOURNEY   TO    LONDON". 
\^Spectator  No.  132.     Wednesday,  Aug.  1,  1711.     Steele.'] 

Qui  aut  tenipus  quid  postulet  non  videt,  aut  plura  loquitur,  aut 
se  ostentat,  aut  eorum  quibuscum  est  rationeni  non  habet,  is  ineptus 
esse  dicitur. — Tully.  ' 

Having  notified  to  my  good  friend  Sir  Eoger  that  I 
should  set  out  for  London  the  next  day,  his  horses  were 
ready  at  the  appointed  hour  in  the  evening;  and  attended 
by  one  of  his  grooms,  I  arrived  at  the  county  town  at 
twilight,  in  order  to  be  ready  for  the  stage-coach  the  day 
following.  As  soon  as  we  arrived  at  the  inn,  the  servant 
who  waited  upon  me,  inquired  of  the  chamberlain,  in  my 
hearing,  what  company  he  had  for  the  coach.  The  fellow 
answered,  "  Mrs.^  Betty  Arable,  the  great  fortune,  and 
the  widow,  her  mother;  a  recruiting  officer  (who  took  a 
place  because  tliey  were  to  go) ;  young  Squire  Quickset, 
her  cousin  (that  her  mother  wished  her  to  be  married  to) ; 
Ephraim,^  the  Quaker,  her  guardian;  and  a  gentleman 
that  had  studied  himself  dumb  ^  from  Sir  Roger  de  Cover- 
ley's."  I  observed,  by  what  he  said  of  myself,  that  ac- 
cording to  his  office,  he  dealt  much  in  intelligence;  and 
doubted  not  but  there  was  some  foundation  for  his  reports 
of  the  rest  of  the  company,  as  well  as  for  the  whimsical 
account  he  gave  of  me. 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak  we  were  all  called;  and 
I,  who  know  my  own  natural  shyness,  and  endeavor  to 
be  as  little  liable  to  be  disputed  with  as  possible,  dressed 

'  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero. 

'For  "  Mistress";  a  term  regularly  applied,  in  Addison's  time,  to 
unmarried  as  well  as  to  married  women. 

*So  called  in  allusion  to  Psalm  Ixxviii.  9.  *The  Spectator. 


A  JOURNFA'  T(}  LONDON  129 

immediately,  that  I  miglit  make  no  one  wait.  The  iivtit 
preparation  for  our  setting  out  was,  that  tlie  captain's  half 
piice  ^  was  placed  near  tlie  coachman,  and  a  drum  behind 
the  coach.  In  the  meantime  the  drummer,  the  captain's 
equipage,^  was  very  loud  ^  that  none  of  the  captain's  things 
should  be  placed  so  as  to  be  spoiled;  upon  which  his  cloak 
bag  was  fixed  in  the  seat  ^  of  the  coach ;  and  the  captain 
himself,  according  to  a  ^  frequent  tliough  invidious"  be- 
havior of  military  men,  ordered  his  man  to  look  sharp  '^  that 
none  but  one  of  the  ladies  should  have  the  place  he  had 
taken  fronting  to  the  coacli-box. 

We  were  in  some  little  time  fixed  in  our  seats,  and  sat 
with  that  dislike  which  people  not  too  good-natured  usu- 
ally conceive  of  each  other  at  first  sight.  The  coach 
jumbled  us  insensibly  into  some  sort  of  familiarity,  and 
we  had  not  moved  above  two  miles  when  the  widow  asked 
the  captain  what  success  he  had  in  his  recruiting.  The 
officer,  with  a  frankness  he  believed  very  graceful,  told 
her  that  indeed  he  had  but  very  little  luck,  and  had  suf- 
fered, much  by  desertion,  therefore  should  be  glad  to  end 
his  warfare  in  the  service  of  her  or  her  fair  daughter. 
**In  a  word,"  continued  he,  "I  am  a  soldier,  and  to  be 
plain  is  my  character;  you  see  me,  madam,  young,  sound, 
and  impudent;  take  me  yourself,  widow,  or  give  me  to 
her;  I  will  be  wholly  at  your  disposal.  I  am  a  soldier  of 
fortune,  ha!  "  This  was  followed  by  a  vain  laugh  of  his 
own,  and  a  deep  silence  of  all  the  rest  of  the  company.  I 
had  nothing  left  for  it  but  to  fall  fast  asleep,  which  I  did 
with  all  speed. ^  "Come,"  said  he,  "resolve  upon  it,  we 
will  make  a  wedding  at  the  next  town :  we  will  wake  this 
pleasant  companion  who  has  fallen  asleep,  to  be  the  bride- 
man,  and  "  (giving  the  Quaker  a  clap  on  the  knee),  he 
concluded,   "this  sly  saint,  who,  I'll  warrant,  understands 

'  A  short  pike,  carried  by  officers  of  infantry.         '  Attendant. 
^  Insisted  very  loudly.  *  Placed  in  the  box  under  the  seat. 

'  The.  •  Disagreeable.  '  To  see. 

*In  appearance,  of  course. 

9 


130  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

what's  what  as  well  as  you  or  I,  widow,  shall  give  the  bride 
as  father." 

The  Quaker,  who  happened  to  be  a  man  of  smartness, 
answered,  "  Friend,  I  take  it  in  good  part,  that  thou  hast 
given  me  the  authority  of  a  father  over  this  comely  and 
virtuous  child;  and  I  must  assure  thee  that,  if  I  have  the 
giving  her,  I  shall  not  bestow  her  on  thee.  Thy  mirth, 
friend,  savoreth  of  folly;  thou  art  a  person  of  a  light 
mind;  thy  drum  is  a  type  of  thee — it  soundeth  because  it 
is  empty.  Verily,  it  is  not  from  thy  fulness  but  thy  emp- 
tiness that  thou  hast  spoken  this  day.  Friend,  friend,  we 
have  hired  this  coach  in  partnership  with  thee,  to  carry 
us  to  the  great  city;  we  cannot  go  any  other  way.  This 
worthy  mother  must  hear  thee  if  thou  wilt  needs  utter  thy 
follies :  we  cannot  help  it,  friend,  I  say — if  thou  wilt,  Ave  must 
hear  thee;  but,  if  thou  wert  a  man  of  understanding,  thou 
wouldst  not  take  advantage  of  thy  courageous  countenance 
to  abash  us  children  of  peace.  Thou  art,  thou  say  est,  a 
soldier;  give  quarter  to  us,  who  cannot  resist  thee.  Why 
didst  thou  fleer  at  our  friend,  who  feigned  himself  asleep  ? 
He  said  nothing,  but  how  dost  thou  know  what  he  con- 
taineth  ?  If  thou  speakest  improper  things  in  the  hearing 
of  this  virtuous  young  virgin,  consider  it  is  an  outrage 
against  a  distressed  person  that  cannot  get  from  thee:  to 
speak  indiscreetly  what  we  are  obliged  to  hear,  by  being 
hasped  ^  up  with  thee  in  this  public  vehicle,  is  in  some 
degree  assaulting  on  the  high  road." 

Here  Ephraim  paused,  and  the  captain,  with  an  happy 
and  uncommon  impudence  (which  can  be  convicted  and 
support  itself  at  the  same  time),  cries,  "Faith,  friend, 
I  thank  thee;  I  should  have  been  a  little  impertinent  if 
thou  hadst  not  reprimanded  me.  Come,  thou  art,  I  see,  a 
smoky  old  fellow,  and  I'll  be  very  orderly  the  ensuing  part 
of  the  journey.  I  was  going  to  give  myself  airs,  but, 
ladies,  I  beg  pardon." 

'  Fastened. 


.-i   JOURyEY  TO  LONDON  131 

The  captain  was  so  little  out  of  luimor,  and  our  company 
"was  so  far  from  being  soured  by  this  little  ruffle,  that 
Ephraim  and  he  took  a  particular  delight  in  being  agree- 
able to  each  other  for  the  future,  and  assumed  their  dif- 
ferent provinces  in  the  conduct  of  the  company.  Our 
reckonings,  apartments,  and  accommodation  fell  under  ^ 
Ephraim;  and  the  captain  looked  to  all  disputes  on  the 
road,  as  ^  the  good  behavior  of  our  coachman,  and  the 
right  we  had  of  taking  place  u.s  going  to  London  of  all 
vehicles  coming  from  thence. 

The  occurrences  we  met  with  were  ordinary,  and  very 
little  happened  which  could  entertain  ^  by  the  relation  of 
them;  but  when  I  considered  the  company  we  were  in,  I 
took  it  for  no  small  good  fortune  tliat  the  whole  journey 
was  not  spent  in  impertinences,  whicli  to  one  part  of  us 
might  be  an  entertainment,  to  the  other  a  suffering. 

AVhat,  therefore,  Ephraim  said  when  we  were  almost 
arrived  at  London,  had  to  me  an  air  not  only  of  good 
understanding  but  good  breeding.  Upon  the  young  lady's 
expressing  her  satisfaction  in  the  journey,  and  declaring 
how  delightful  it  had  been  to  her,  Ephraim  declared  him- 
self as  follows:  "  There  is  no  ordinary  ]iart  of  human  life 
which  expresseth  so  much  a  good  mind,  and  a  right  inward 
man,  as  his  behavior  upon  meeting  with  strangers,  espe- 
cially such  as  may  seem  the  most  unsuitable  companions 
to  him ;  such  a  man,  when  he  falleth  in  the  way  Avith  persons 
of  simplicity  and  innocence,  however  knowing  he  may  be  in 
the  ways  of  men,  will  not  vaunt  himself  thereof;  but  will 
the  rather  hide  his  superiority  to  them,  that  he  may  not 
be  painful  unto  them.  My  good  friend  "  (continued  he, 
turning  to  the  officer),  "  thee  and  I  are  to  part  by  and  by, 
and  perad venture  we  may  never  meet  again;  but  be  advised 
by  a  plain  man;  modes  and  apparel  are  but  trifles  to  the 
real  man,  therefore  do  not  think  such  a  man  as  thyself 

'  The  oare  of.  *  Such  as.  ""  -^ 

*  Would  entertain  the  reader  if  I  were  to  relate  them. 


133  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVE  RLE  Y 

terrible  for  thy  garb,  nor  sucli  a  one  as  me  contemptible  for 
mine.  When  two  such  as  thee  and  I  meet,  with  affections 
as  we  ought  to  have  towards  each  other,  thou  shouldst  re- 
joice to  see  my  peaceable  demeanor,  and  I  should  be  glad 
to  see  thy  strength  and  ability  to  protect  me  in  it." 

T. 


SIB  ROGER  IN  AN  ARGUMENT  133 

XXVII. 

SIK    ROGER   IX    A:S'   ARGUMENT. 

[Spectator  No.  174.      Wechiesday,  Srpf.  19.  1711.     Steele.] 

Haec  memini  et  victum  friistra  contendere  Thyrsin. 

Virgil. 

There  is  scarce  anytliing  more  common  than  animosi- 
ties between  parties  tliat  cannot  subsist  but  by  tlieir  agree- 
ment: this  was  well  represented  in  the  sedition  of  the 
members  of  the  liuman  body  in  the  old  Roman  fable. ^  It 
is  often  the  case  of  lesser  confederate  states  against  a  supe- 
rior power,  which  are  hardly  held  together,  though  their 
unanimity  is  necessary  for  their  common  safety;  and  this 
is  always  the  case  of  the  landed  and  trading  interest  of 
Great  Britain:  the  trader  is  fed  by  the  product  of  the 
land,  and  the  landed  man  cannot  be  clothed  but  by  the 
skill  of  the  trader;  and  yet  those  interests  are  ever  jarring. 

We  had  last  winter  an  instance  of  this  at  our  club,  in 
Sir  Koger  de  Coverley  and  Sir  Andrew  .Freeport,  between 
whom  there  is  generally  a  constant,  though  friendly,  oppo- 
sition of  opinions.  It  happened  that  one  of  the  company, 
in  an  historical  discourse,  was  observing  that  Carthaginian 
faith  ^  was  a  proverbial  idirase  to  intimate  breach  of  leagues. 
Sir  Roger  said  it  could  hardly  bo  otherwise;  that  ''the 
Carthaginians  were  the  greatest  traders  in  the  world,  and 
as  gain  is  the  chief  end  of  such  a  people,  they  never  pur- 
sue any  other, — the  means  to  it  are  never  regarded.  They 
will,  if  it  comes  easily,  get  money  honestly;  but  if  not, 
they  will  not  scruple  to  obtain  it  by  fraud,  or  cozenage. 
And,  indeed,  what  is  the  whole  business  of  the  trader's 
account,  but  to  overreach  him  who  trusts  to  his  memory  ? 

'Of  the  Belly  and  the  Members.     Told  in  Livy,  book  ii.,  ch.  32. 
*  Punica  fides. 


134  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLET 

But  were  that  not  bo,  what  can  there  great  and  noble  be 
expected  from  him  whose  attention  is  forever  fixed  upon 
balancing  his  books,  and  watching  over  his  expenses? 
And  at  best,  let  frugality  and  parsimony  be  the  virtues  of 
the  merchant,  how  much  is  his  punctual  dealing  below  a 
gentleman's  charity  to  the  poor,  or  hospitality  among  his 
neighbors  ?  " 

Captain  Sentry  observed  Sir  Andrew  very  diligent  in 
hearing  Sir  Roger,  and  had  a  mind  to  turn  the  discourse, 
by  taking  notice  "'  in  general,  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest  parts  of  human  society,  there  was  a  secret,  though 
unjust,  way  among  men,  of  indulging  the  seeds  of  ill- 
nature  and  envy,  by  comparing  tlieir  own  state  of  life  to 
that  of  another,  and  grudging  the  approach  of  their  neigh- 
bor to  their  own  happiness:  and  on  the  other  side,  he  who  is 
the  less  at  his  ease,  repines  at  the  other  who,  he  thinks,  has 
unjustly  the  advantage  over  him.  Thus  the  civil  and  mili- 
tary lists  look  upon  each  other  with  much  ill-nature :  the 
soldier  repines  at  the  courtier's  power,  and  the  courtier 
rallies  the  soldier's  honor;  or,  to  come  to  lower  instances, 
the  private  men  in  the  horse  and  foot  of  an  army,*  the 
carmen  and  coachmen  in  the  city  streets,  mutually  look 
upon  each  other  with  ill-will,  when  they  are  in  competition 
for  quarters  or  the  way,^  in  their  respective  motions." 

*'  It  is  very  Avell,  good  captain,"  interrupted  Sir  Andrew. 
*'  You  may  attempt  to  turn  the  discourse  if  you  think  fit; 
but  I  must,  however,  have  a  word  or  two  with  Sir  Roger, 
who,  I  see,  thinks  he  has  paid  me  oif,  and  been  very  severe 
upon  the  merchant.  I  shall  not,"  continued  he,  "at  this 
time  remind  Sir  Roger  of  the  great  and  noble  monuments 
of  charity  and  public  spirit  which  have  been  erected  by 
merchants  since  the  Reformation,  but  at  present  content 
myself  with  what  he  allows  us — parsimony  and  frugality. 
If  it  were  consistent  with  the  quality  of  so  ancient  a  baro- 
net as  Sir  Roger,  to  keep  an  account,  or  measure  things 

*  Note  how  each  disputant  keeps  up  bis  character.         *  The  street. 


SIR   BOG  En   IX  AX  ARGUMENT  J2o 

by  the  most  infallible  way,  that  of  luimbers,  he  would  pre- 
fer our  parsimony  to  his  hospitality.  If  to  drink  so  many 
liogsheads  is  to  be  hospitable,  we  do  not  contend  for  the 
fame  of  that  virtue;  but  it  would  be  worth  while  to  con- 
sider whether  so  many  artificers  at  work  ten  days  together 
by  my  appointment,  or  so  many  peasants  made  merry  on 
Sir  Roger's  charge,  are  tlie  men  more  obliged '?  I  believe 
the  families  of  the  artificers  will  thank  me  more  than  the 
households  of  the  peasants  sliall  Sir  Roger.  Sir  Roger  gives 
to  his  men,  but  I  place  mine  above  the  necessity  or  obliga- 
tion of  my  bounty.  I  am  in  very  little  pain  for  the  Roman 
proverb  upon  the  Carthaginian  traders;  the  Romans  were 
their  professed  enemies.  I  am  only  sorry  no  Cartliaginian 
histories  have  come  to  our  hands;  we  might  have  been 
taught,  perhaps,  by  them  some  proverbs  against  the  Roman 
generosity,  in  fighting  for  and  bestowing  other  people's 
goods.  But  since  Sir  Roger  has  taken  occasion  from  an 
old  proverb  to  be  out  of  humor  with  merchants,  it  should 
be  no  offence  to  offer  one  not  quite  so  old  in  their  defence. 
When  a  man  happens  to  break  ^  in  Holland,  they  say  of 
him  that  'he  lias  not  kept  true  accounts.'  This  plirase, 
perhaps,  among  us  Avould  appear  a  soft  or  humorous  way 
of  speaking;  but  with  that  exact  nation  it  bears  the 
highest  reproach.  For  a  man  to  be  mistaken  in  the  calcula- 
tion of  his  expense,  in  his  ability  to  answer  future  de- 
mands, or  to  be  impertinently  sanguine  ^  in  putting  his 
credit  to  too  great  adventure,  are  all  instances  of  as  much 
infamy  as,  with  gayer  nations,  to  be  failing  in  courage  or 
common  honesty. 

"  Numbers  are  so  much  the  measure  of  everytjiing  that 
is  valuable,  that  it  is  not  possible  to  demonstrate  the  suc- 
cess of  any  action,  or  the  prudence  of  any  undertaking, 
without  them.  I  say  this  in  answer  to  what  Sir  Roger  is 
pleased  to  say,  that  '  little  that  is  truly  noble  can  be  ex- 
pected from  one  who  is  ever  poring  on  his  cash-book  or 

•Fail.  '  Unduly  confident. 


136  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVERLEY 

balancing  his  accounts.'  When  I  have  my  returns  from 
abroad,  I  can  tell  to  a  shilling,  by  the  help  of  numbers,  the 
profit  or  loss  by  my  adventure ;  but  I  ought  also  to  be  able 
to  show  that  I  had  reason  for  making  it,  either  from  my 
own  experience  or  that  of  other  people,  or  from  a  reasonable 
presumption  that  my  returns  will  be  sufficient  to  answer 
my  expense  and  hazard — and  this  is  never  to  be  done  with- 
out the  skill  of  numbers.  For  instance,  if  I  am  to  trade 
to  Turkey,  I  ought  beforehand  to  know  the  demand  of  our 
manufactures  there,  as  well  as  of  their  silks  in  England, 
and  the  customary  jDrices  that  are  given  for  both  in  each 
country.  I  ought  to  have  a  clear  knowledge  of  these  mat- 
ters beforehand,  that  I  may  presume  upon  sufficient  returns 
to  answer  the  charge  of  the  cargo  I  have  fitted  out,  the 
freight  and  assurance  out  and  home,  the  custom  ^  to  the 
queen,  and  the  interest  of  my  own  money,  and  besides  all 
these  expenses,  a  reasonable  profit  to  myself.  Now  what  is 
there  of  scandal  in  this  skill  ?  What  has  the  merchant 
done  that  he  should  be  so  little  in  the  good  graces  of  Sir 
Roger  ?  He  throws  down  no  man's  enclosure,  and  tramples 
upon  no  man's  corn;  he  takes  nothing  from  the  industrious 
laborer;  he  pays  the  poor  man  for  his  work;  he  communi- 
cates his  profit  with  mankind;  by  the  preparation  of  his 
cargo,  and  the  manufacture  of  his  returns,  he  furnishes 
employment  and  subsistence  to  greater  numbers  than  the 
richest  nobleman;  and  even  the  nobleman  is  obliged  to  him 
for  finding  out  foreign  markets  for  the  produce  of  his 
estate,  and  for  making  a  great  addition  to  his  rents;  and 
yet  it  is  certain  that  none  of  all  these  things  could  be  done 
by  him  without  the  exercise  of  his  skill  in  numbers. 

"This  is  the  economy  of  the  merchant;  and  the  con- 
duct of  the  gentleman  must  be  the  same,  unless  by  scorn- 
ing to  be  the  steward,  he  resolves  the  steward  shall  be  the 
gentleman.  The  gentleman,  no  more  than  the  merchant, 
is  able,  without  the  help  of  numbers,  to  account  for  the 

^  The  customs  duties. 


SIR  ROOER   IN  AN  ARGUMENT  137 

success  of  any  action,  or  the  prudence  of  any  adventure. 
If,  for  instance,  the  chase  is  his  whole  adventure,  his  only 
returns  must  be  the  stag's  horns  in  the  great  liall  and  the 
fox's  nose  upon  the  stable  door.  Without  doubt  Sir  Eoger 
knows  the  full  value  of  these  returns;  ^  and  if  beforehand 
he  had  computed  the  charges  of  the  chase,  a  gentleman 
of  his  discretion  would  certainly  have  hanged  up  all  his 
dogs;  he  would  never  have  brought  back  so  many  fine 
horses  to  the  kennel;  he  would  never  have  gone  so  often, 
like  a  blast,  over  fields  of  corn.  If  such,  too,  had  been 
the  conduct  of  all  his  ancestors,  he  might  truly  have 
boasted,  at  this  day,  that  tlie  antiquity  of  his  family  had 
never  been  sullied  by  a  trade;  a  merchant  had  never  been 
permitted  with  his  whole  estate  to  purchase  a  room  for  his 
picture  in  the  gallery  of  the  Coverley's,  or  to  claim  his 
descent  from  the  maid  of  honor.^  ]5ut  'tis  very  happy 
for  Sir  Roger  that  the  merchant  paid  so  dear  for  his  ambi- 
tion. 'Tis  the  misfortune  of  many  other  gentlemen  to 
turn  out  of  the  seats  of  their  ancestors,  to  make  way  for 
such  new  masters  as  have  been  more  exact  in  their  accounts 
than  themselves;  and  certainly  he  deserves  the  estate  a 
great  deal  better  who  has  got  it  by  his  industry,  than  he 
who  has  lost  it  by  his  negligence."  ^  T. 

'  See  p.  71. 

'Sir  Andi'ew  no  longer  speaks  beliind  Sir  Roger's  back  (see  p.  47) 

*  Which  comes  off  second  best  in  the  argument  ? 


138  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

XXVIII. 

SIR   ROGER   IN    LONDON. 

[Spectator  Xo.  2Q>^.     Tuesday,  January  S.l'tW^    Addison.'^ 

^vo  rarissima  nostro 

Siiuplicita» , 

Oviu. 

I  WAS  this  morning  surprised  with  a  great  knocking  at 
the  door,  wlien  ray  landlady's  daughter  came  up  to  me  and 
told  me  that  there  was  a  man  below  desired  to  speak  with 
me.  Upon  my  asking  her  who  it  was,  she  told  me  it  was  a 
very  grave,  elderly  person,  but  that  she  did  not  know  his 
name.  I  immediately  went  down  to  him,  and  found  him 
to  be  the  coachman  of  my  worthy  friend.  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley.  He  told  me  that  his  master  came  to  town  last 
night,  and  would  be  glad  to  take  a  turn  with  me  in  Gray's 
Inn  Walks.  As  I  was  wondering  in  myself  what  had 
brought  Sir  Roger  to  town,  not  having  lately  received  any 
letter  from  him,  he  told  me  that  his  master  was  come  up 
to  get  a  sight  of  Prince  Eugene,^  and  that  he  desired  I 
would  immediately  meet  him. 

I  was  not  a  little  pleased  with  the  curiosity  of  the  old 
knight,  though  I  did  not  much  wonder  at  it,  having 
heard  him  say  more  than  once  in  private  discourse,  that  he 
looked  upon  Prince  Eugenio  (for  so  the  knight  always 
calls  him)  ^  to  be  a  greater  man  than  Scanderbeg.* 

'  See  note  1,  p.  1. 

'Look  him  up  in  connection  with  the  Battle  of  Blenheim.  Read 
Southey's  poem.  Prince  Eugene  was  then  in  London  on  a  visit  to 
Marlborough,  to  urge  his  restoration  to  the  C^ueen's  favor,  and  also 
for  political  reasons  ;  while  there  he  stood  godfather  to  Steele's 
second  son. 

*  Because  it  sounds  more  grandiloquent  and  foreign. 

*  George  Castriota,  an  Albanian  hero,  called  Skander  (J^/cxamZer) 
from  his  daring.     Beg  (or  bey)  is  Turkish  for  prince  ;  thus  Scander- 


SIR  ROGER  IX  LONDON-  I39 

I  was  no  sooner  come  into  Gray's  Inn  "Wulks,  but  I 
heard  my  friend  upon  the  terrace  liemming  twice  or  thrice 
to  himself  with  great  vigor,  for  he  loves  to  clear  his  pipes 
in  good  air  (to  make  use  of  his  own  phrase),  and  is  not  a 
little  pleased  with  any  one  who  takes  notice  of  the  strength 
which  he  still  exerts  in  his  morning  hems. 

I  was  touched  with  a  secn-et  joy  at  the  sight  of  tlie  good 
old  man,  who  before  he  saw  me  was  engaged  in  conver- 
sation with  a  beggar-mau  that  had  asked  an  alms  of  liim. 
I  could  hear  my  friend  chide  him  for  not  finding  out  some 
work;  but  at  the  same  time  saw  him  j-jut  his  hand  in  liis 
pocket  and  give  him  sixpence. 

Our  salutations  were  very  liearty  on  both  sides,  consist- 
ing of  many  kind  shakes  of  the  hand,  and  several  affec- 
tionate looks  which  we  cast  ujwn  one  another.  After  which 
the  knight  told  me  my  good  friend  his  chaplain  was  very 
well,  and  much  at  my  service,  and  that  the  Sunday  before 
he  had  made  a  most  incomparable  sermon  out  of  Doctor 
Barrow.^  "I  have  left,"  says  he,  "all  my  affairs  in  his 
hands,  and  being  willing  to  lay  an  obligation  upon  him, 
have  deposited  with  him  thirty  marks, ^  to  be  distributed 
among  his  poor  parishioners." 

He  then  proceeded  to  acjuaint  me  with  the  welfare  of 
Will  AVimble.  Upon  which  he  put  his  hand  into  his  fob 
and  presented  me,  in  his  name,  with  a  tobacco-stopper, 
telling  me  that  AVill  had  been  busy  all  the  beginning  of 
the  winter  in  turning  great  quantities  of  them,  and  that 
he  made  a  present  of  one  to  every  gentleman  in  the  coun- 
try who  has  good  principles  and  smokes.  He  added  that 
poor  Will  was  at  present  under  great  tribulation,  for  that 
Tom  Touchy  had  taken  the  law  of  him  for  cutting  some 
hazel  sticks  out  of  one  of  his  hedges. 

beg  means  Prince  Alexander.  He  deserted  from  the  Turks,  and 
fought  against  them  in  1461,  winning  many  victories.  See  Spectator 
No.  316. 

'Had  preached  most  eloquently — out  of  Dr.  Barrow.  To  make  a, 
sermon  meant  to  preach. 

'  A  mark  was  money  of  account  (not  a  coin)  worth  about  $3.33. 


140  SIR  ROGER  BE  COVERLEY 

Among  other  pieces  of  news  which  the  knight  brought 
from  his  country-seat,  he  informed  me  that  Moll  White 
was  dead;  and  tliat  about  a  month  after  her  death  the 
wind  was  so  very  high  that  it  blew  down  the  end  of  one  of 
his  barns.  "But  for  my  own  part,"  says  Sir  Eoger,  "I 
do  not  think  that  the  old  woman  had  any  hand  in  it." 

He  afterwards  fell  into  an  account  of  the  diversions 
which  had  passed  in  his  house  during  the  holidays;  for  Sir 
Eoger,  after  the  laudable  custom  of  his  ancestors,  always 
keeps  open  house  at  Christmas.  I  learned  from  him  that 
he  had  killed  eight  fat  hogs  for  the  season,  that  he  had 
dealt  about  his  chines  very  liberally  amongst  his  neighbors, 
and  that  in  particiilar  he  had  sent  a  string  of  hog's-puddings 
with  a  pack  of  cards  to  every  poor  family  in  the  parish. 
"I  have  often  thought,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "it  happens 
very  well  that  Christmas  should  fall  out  in  the  middle  of 
the  winter.  It  is  the  most  dead,  uncomfortable  time  of  the 
year,  when  the  poor  j^eople  would  suffer  very  much  from 
their  poverty  and  cold,  if  they  had  not  good  cheer,  warm 
fires,  and  Christmas  gambols  to  support  them.  I  love  to 
rejoice  their  poor  hearts  at  this  season,  and  to  see  the 
whole  village  merry  in  my  great  hall.  I  allow  a  double 
quantity  of  malt  to  my  small  beer,  and  set  it  a  running  for 
twelve  days  to  every  one  that  calls  for  it.  I  have  always  a 
piece  of  cold  beef  and  a  mince-pie  upon  the  table,  and 
am  wonderfully  pleased  to  see  my  tenants  pass  away  a 
whole  evening  in  playing  their  innocent  tricks,  and  smut- 
ting one  another.*  Our  friend  AVill  Wimble  is  as  merry 
as  any  of  them,  and  shows  a  thousand  roguish  tricks  upon 
these  occasions." 

I  was  very  much  delighted  with  the  reflection  of  my  old 
friend,  Avliich  carried  so  much  goodness  in  it.  He  then 
launched  out  into  the  praise  of  the  late  Act  of  Parliament^ 

'  While  playing  some  rude  country  game. 
'    'The  Act  of  "Occasional  Conformity,"  passed  for  preserving  the 
Protestant  religion  by  better  securing  the  Church  of  Englaud  as  by 
law  established. — Greene. 


SIR  ROGER  IX  LONDON  141 

for  securing  the  Church  of  England,  and  told  me,  with 
great  satisfaction,  that  he  believed  it  already  began  to  take 
effect,  for  that  a  rigid  Dissenter,  who  chanced  to  dine  at 
his  house  on  Christmas  day,  had  been  observed  to  eat  very 
plentifully  of  his  plum-porridge.' 

After  having  dispatched  all  our  country  matters.  Sir 
Koger  made  several  inquiries  concerning  the  club,  and 
particularly  of  his  old  antagonist,  Sir  Andrew  Freeport. 
He  asked  me  with  a  kind  of  smile  whether  Sir  Andrew 
had  not  taken  advantage  of  his  absence  to  vent  among 
them  some  of  his  republican  doctrines;  but  soon  after, 
gathering  up  his  countenance  into  a  more  than  ordinary 
seriousness,  "Tell  me  truly,"  says  he,  "don't  you  think 
Sir  Andrew  had  a  hand  in  the  Pope's  Procession  ?  "  ^ — but 
without  giving  me  time  to  answer  him,  '"  Well,  well," 
says  he,  "  I  know  you  are  a  wary  man,  and  do  not  care  to 
talk  of  public  matters." 

The  knight  then  asked  me  if  I  had  seen  Prince  Eugenie, 
and  made  me  promise  to  get  him  a  stand  in  some  con- 
venient place,  where  he  might  have  a  full  sight  of  that  ex- 
traordinary man,  whose  presence  does  so  much  honor  to 
the  British  nation. 

He  dwelt  very  long  on  the  praises  of  this  great  general, 
and  I  found  that,  since  I  Avas  with  him  in  the  country,  he 
had  drawn  many  observations  together  out  of  his  reading 
in  Baker's  "  Chronicle,"  and  other  authors  who  always  lie 
in  his  hall  window,^  which  very  much  redound  to  the  honor 
of  this  prince. 

Having  passed  away  the  greatest  part  of  the  morning  in 


'  Dissenters  disbelieved  in  Christmas  feasts. 

'  Ceremonial  processions  were  early  adopted  by  the  Christian 
Church,  but  after  the  Reformation,  abandoned  by  all  but  the  Roman 
Catholics.  But  a  burlesque  procession  for  November  17,  1711,  had 
been  arranged  by  the  Whigs,  which  was  broken  up  by  the  Tories. 
For  a  detailed  account  of  this  {to  which  Sir  Roger  refers)  see  Greene's 
edition  of  Addison'' s  WorkSy  vol.  v.,  p.  173.  Sir  Roger  seems  struck 
with  the  absurdity  of  his  own  question,  and  abruptly  breaks  off. 

*  See  note  4,  p.  33. 


142  SIB  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

hearing  the  knight's  reflections,  which  Avere  partly  private 
and  partly  political,  he  asked  me  if  I  would  smoke  a  pipe 
with  him  over  a  dish  of  coffee  at  Squire's.  As  I  love  the 
old  man,  I  take  delight  in  complying  with  everything  that 
is  agreeable  to  him,  and  accordingly  waited  on  him  to  the 
coffee-house,  where  his  venerable  figure  drew  upon  us  the 
eyes  of  the  whole  room.  He  had  no  sooner  seated  him- 
self at  the  upper  end  of  the  high  table,  but  he  called  for 
a  clean  pipe,  a  paper  of  tobacco,  a  dish  of  coffee,  a  wax 
candle,  and  the  Supploneut,^  with  such  an  air  of  cheerful- 
ness and  good  humor  that  all  the  boys  in  the  coffee-room 
(who  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  serving  him)  were  at  once 
employed  on  his  several  errands,  insomuch  that  nobody 
else  could  come  at  a  dish  of  tea  till  the  knight  had  got  all 
his  conveniences  about  him.  L. 

'  A  periodical  newspaper. 


SIR  ROGER  IX    WESTMINSTER  ABBEY       U3 


XXIX. 

SIR    ROGER    IX    WESTMINSTER    ABBEY. 

[Spectator  No.  829.     Tuesdmj,  JIarch  18,  iTJi'    Addison.} 

Ire  taraen  restat,  Xuiiia  quo  devenit  et  Ancus. 

Horace, 

/T^  My  friend  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  told  me  t'other  iiiglit 
that  he  had  been  reading  my  paper  upon  Westminster  Ab- 
bey,2  in  which,  says  he,  there  are  a  great  maiiy  ingenious 
fancies.  He  told  me,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  observed  I 
had  promised  another  paper  upon  the  tombs,  and  that  he 
should  be  glad  to  go  and  see  them  witli  me,  not  having 
visited  them  since  he  had  read  history,  I  could  not  at  first 
imagine  how  this  came  into  the  knight's  head,  till  I  recol- 
lected that  he  had  been  very  busy  all  last  summer  upon 
Baker's  "Chronicle,"  which  he  has  quoted  several  times 
in  his  disputes  with  Sir  Andrew  Freeport  since  his  last 
coming  to  town.  Accordingly,  I  promised  to  call  upon  him 
the  next  morning,  that  we  might  go  together  to  the  Abbey. 
I  found  the  knight  under  his  butler's  hands,  who  always 
shaves  him.  He  was  no  sooner  dressed  than  he  called  for  a 
glass  of  the  Widow  Trueby's  water,^  which  he  told  me  he 
always  drank  before  he  went  abroad.  He  recommended 
me  to  a  dram  of  it  at  the  same  time  with  so  much  hearti- 
ness that  I  could  not  forbear  drinking  it.  As  soon  as  I 
had  got  it  down,  I  found  it  very  unpalatable;  upon  which 
the  knight,  observing  that  I  had  made  several  wry  faces, 
told  me  that  he  knew  I  should  not  like  it  at  first,  but  that  it 
was  the  best  thing  in  the  Avorld  against  the  stone  or  gravel. 

'See  note  1,  p.  1.  *  Spectator  No.  26. 

'"Strong  waters"  (herb  teas  with  spirits  added  to  make  them 
"  keep  ")  were  too  commonly  drunk,  both  by  men  and  women— 
"just  for  the  stomach's  sake."    See  Gi'eene's  note  on  this  paper. 


144  'S'7i2  ROGER  DE  COVERLET 

'  I  could  have  wished,  indeed,  that  he  had  acquainted  me 
with  the  virtues  of  it  sooner;  but  it  was  too  late  to  com- 
plain, and  I  knew  what  he  had  done  was  out  of  good-will. 
Sir  Roger  told  me,  further,  that  he  looked  upon  it  to  be  very 
good  for  a  man,  whilst  he  stayed  in  town,  to  keep  off  infec- 
tion; and  that  he  got  together  a  quantity  of  it  upon  the 
first  news  of  the  sickness  being  at  Dantzic'  When,  of  a 
sudden,  turning  short  to  one  of  his  servants,  who  stood 
behind  him,  he  bid  him  call  a  hackney-coach,  and  take 
care  it  was  an  elderly  man  that  drove  it. 

He  then  resumed  his  discourse  upon  Mrs.  Trueby's  wa- 
ter, telling  me  that  the  Widow  Trueby  was  one  who  did 
more  good  than  all  the  doctors  and  apothecaries  in  the 
country;  that  she  distilled  every  poppy  that  grcAV  within 
five  miles  of  her;  that  she  distributed  her  water  gratis 
among  all  sorts  of  people :  to  which  the  knight  added  that 
she  had  a  very  great  jointure,  and  that  the  whole  country 
would  fain  have  it  a  match  between  him  and  her;  ''And 
truly,"  said  Sir  Roger,  "if  I  had  not  been  engaged,  per- 
haps I  could  not  have  done  better." 

His  discoiirse  was  broken  off  by  his  man's  telling  him 
he  had  called  a  coach.  Upon  our  going  to  it,  after  having 
cast  his  eye  upon  the  wheels,  he  asked  the  coachman  if  his 
axle-tree  was  good;  upon  the  fellow's  telling  him  he  would 
warrant  it,  the  knight  turned  to  me,  told  me  he  looked 
like  an  honest  man,  and  went  in  without  further  ceremony. 
^'  We  had  not  gone  far  when  Sir  Roger,  popping  out  his 
head,  called  the  coachman  down  from  his  box  and,  upon 
his  presenting  himself  at  the  Avindow,  asked  him  if  he 
smoked;  as  I  was  considering  what  this  would  end  in,  he 
bid  him  stop  by  the  way  at  any  good  tobacconist's,  and 
take  in  a  roll  of  their  best  Virginia.  Nothing  material 
happened  in  the  remaining  part  of  our  journey  till  we 
were  set  down  at  the  west  end  of  the  Abbey. 

As  we  went  up  the  body  of  the  church,  the  knight 

•The  plague  of  1709. 


SIR  ROGER  IX    WESTMIXS'fEn   ABBEY        U5 

pointed  at  tlie  tropliies  upon  one  of  the  new  niouuments, 
and  cried  out,  "A  brave  man,  1  Avarrant  him!  "  Passing 
afterwards  by  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel/  he  flung  his  liand 
that  way,  and  cried,  "Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel  I  a  very  gal- 
lant man!  "  As  we  stood  before  Busby's  tomb,^  the  knight 
uttered  himself  again  after  the  same  manner:—"  Dr.  Bus- 
by— a  great  man!  he  whipped  my  grandfather — a  very 
great  man!  I  should  have  gone  to  him  myself  if  I  had 
not  been  a  blockhead — a  very  great  man!  " 

We  were  immediately  conducted  into  the  little  chapel 
on  the  right  hand.  Sir  Roger,  planting  himself  at  our 
historian's  elbow,  was  very  attentive  to  everything  he  said, 
particularly  to  the  account  he  gave  us  of  the  lord  who 
had  cat  off  the  King  of  Morocco's  head.  Among  several 
other  figures,  he  was  very  well  pleased  to  see  the  statesman 
Cecil  upon  his  knees;  ^  and,  concluding  them  all  to  be 
great  men,  was  conducted  to  the  figure  which  represents 
that  martyr  to  good  housewifery  who  died  by  the  prick  of 
a  needle.^  Upon  our  interpreter's  telling  us  that  she  was 
a  maid  of  honor  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  knight  was  very 
inquisitive  into  her  name  and  family;  and,  after  having 
regarded  her  finger  for  some  time,  ''I  wonder,"  says  he, 
"that  Sh'  Richard  Baker  has  said  notliing  of  her  in  his 
'Chronicle.'" 

We  were  then  conveyed  to  the  two  coronation  chairs,^ 
where  my  old  friend,  after  having  heard  that  the  stone  " 

'  An  English  admiral  who  took  part  in  the  vietory  of  La  Hoguo  ; 
he  was  drowned  in  1707;  his  body  was  recovered  and  buried  in  West- 
minster Abbey.     See  Spectator  No.  2G. 

"Dr.  Busby,  headmaster  of  Westminster  School  for  fifty-five  years; 
he  died  in  1G95,  aged  eighty-nine. 

*  He  erected  a  tomb  to  the  memory  of  liis  wife  and  daughter,  at 
the  base  of  which  he  is  represented  kneeling. 

*  An  unfounded  "  guide's  story."    See  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  c.  xxviii. 
'  One  is  said  to  be  the  chair  of  Edward  the  Confessor  ;  the  other 

was  placed  in  the  Abbey  in  the  reign  of  William  and  Mary,  having 
been  made  especially  for  the  latter  when  she  was  crowned  joint- 
sovereign  with  her  husband. 

"The  stone  of  Scone,  on  which  the  Scottish  kings  were  crowned  till 
Edward  I.  captured  it  and  carried  it  off.     Tradition  says  it  was  tlie 


140  'Sr/ft  ROOER  DE  COVERLET 

untlerneatli  the  most  ancient  of  them,  which  was  brouglit 
from  Scotland,  was  called  Jacob's  Pillar,  sat  himself  down  ^ 
in  the  chair,  and,  looking  like  the  figure  of  an  old  Gothic 
king,  asked  our  interpreter  what  authority  they  had  to  say 
that  Jacob  had  ever  been  in  Scotland.  The  fellow,  instead 
of  returning  him  an  aiiswer,  told  him  that  he  hoped  his 
honor  would  pay  his  forfeit,^  I  could  observe  Sir  Roger  a 
little  ruffled  upon  being  thus  trepanned ;  ^  but,  our  guide 
not  insisting  upon  his  demand,  the  knight  soon  recovered 
his  good  humor,  and  whispered  in  my  ear  that  if  Will 
AVimble  were  with  us,  and  saw  those  two  chairs,  it  would 
go  hard  but  he  would  get  a  tobacco-stopper  out  of  one  or 
t'other  of  them. 

Sir  Roger,  in  the  next  place,  laid  his  hand  upon  Edward 
the  Third's  swoi-d,-*  and,  leaning  upon  the  pommel  of  it, 
gave  us  the  whole  history  of  the  Black  Prince;  ^  concluding 
that,  in  Sir  Richard  Baker's  opinion,  Edward  the  Third 
was  one  of  the  greatest  princes  that  ever  sat  upon  the 
English  throne. 

AVe  were  then  shown  Edward  the  Confessor's  tomb,  upon 
which  Sir  Roger  acquainted  us  that  he  was  the  first  who 
touched  for  the  evil;^  Jind  afterwards  Henry  the  Fourth's, 
uix>n  Avhich  he  shook  his  head  and  told  us  there  was  tine 
reading  in  the  casualties  in  that  reign. 

Our  conductor  then  pointed  to  that  monument  where 
there  is  the  figure  of  one  of  our  English  kings  without  an 
head;  •  and  upon  giving  us  to  know  that  the  head,  which 

stone  which  Jacob  turned  from  a  pillow  into  a  pillar  (Geii.  28  :  18); 
but  this  lacks  confirmation,  for.  as  Sir  Koger  shrewdly  implies,  there 
is  no  "  authority  that  Jacob  ever  was  in  Scotland." 

'  Seated  himself.        "^  Pn^bably  for  sitting  in  the  chair.      *Canght. 

*The  "monumental  sword  that  conquered  Prance"  ;  it  is  seven 
feet  long  and  weighs  eighteen  pcHinds.  Edward  had  it  carried  before 
him  in  France. 

*  What  relation  did  he  bear  to  Edward  III.  ?  Find  the  origin  of 
the  motto  of  the  present  Prince  of  Wales. 

'  "  King's  evil,    or  scrofula,  supposed  to  be  curable  by  a  king's  touch. 

'Henry  V.  The  body  was  of  brass,  plated,  the  head  of  solid 
silver.  The  plating  was  stripped  off  and  the  head  stolen  in  the 
time  of  Henry  Ylll. 


iilR  ROGER   TX   WIJSTMIXSTER  ABBEY       I47 

was  of  beaten  silver,  had  been  stolen  away  several  years 
eince,  "Some  Whig,  I'll  warrant  you,"  says  Sir  Koger; 
*'you  ought  to  lock  up  your  kings  better;  they  will  carry 
off  the  body  too,  if  you  don't  take  care." 

The  glorious  names  of  Henry  the  Fifth  and  Queen 
Elizabeth  gave  the  knight  great  opportunities  of  shining 
and  of  doing  justice  to  Sir  Eichard  Baker,  avIio,  as  our 
knight  observed  with  some  surprise,  had  a  great  many  kings 
in  him  whose  monuments  he  had  not  seen  in  the  Abbey. 

For  my  own  part,  I  could  not  but  be  pleased  to  see  the 
knight  show  such  an  honest  passion  for  the  glory  of  his 
country,  and  such  a  respectful  gratitude  to  the  memory  of 
its  princes. 

I  must  not  omit  that  the  benevolence  of  my  good  old 
friend,  which  flows  out  towards  every  one  he  converses 
with,  made  him  very  kind  to  our  interpreter/  whom  he 
looked  upon  as  an  extraordinary  man;  for  which  reason 
he  shook  him  by  the  hand  at  parting,  telling  him  that  he 
should  be  very  glad  to  see  him  at  his  lodgings  in  Xorfolk 
Buildings,^  and  talk  over  these  matters  with  him  more  at 
leisure.  L. 

'Guide. 

'  In  Norfolk  Street.     See  note  1,  p.  149. 


148  J^JJi  BOaiJR  1)E  COVEELEY 

XXX. 

SIR    ROGER    AT   THE    PLAT. 

[Spectator  No.  335.     Tuesday,  March  25,  1712.     Addison.'\ 

Respicere  exemplar  vitae  morumque  jubebo 
Doetiim  imitatorera,  et  veras  hinc  ducere  voces. 

Horace. 

My  friend  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  wheii  we  last  met 
together  at  the  club,  told  me  that  he  had  a  great  mind  to 
see  the  new  tragedy  ^  with  me,  assuring  me,  at  the  same 
time,  that  lie  had  not  been  at  a  play  these  twenty  years. 
"The  last  I  saw,"  said  Sir  Roger,  "was  the  'Commit- 
tee,' 2  which  I  should  not  have  gone  to,  neither,  had  not  I 
been  told  beforehand  that  it  was  a  good  Church  of  Eng- 
land comedy."  He  then  proceeded  to  inquire  of  me  who 
this  distressed  mother  was,  and,  upon  hearing  that  she  was 
Hector's  widow,  he  told  me  that  her  husband  was  a  brave 
man,  and  that  Avlien  he  was  a  school-boy  he  had  read  his 
life  at  the  end  of  the  dictionary.^  My  friend  asked  me, 
in  the  next  place,  if  there  would  not  be  some  danger  in 
coming  home  late,  in  case  the  Mohocks  ^  should  be  abroad. 
"  I  assure  you,"  says  he,  "  I  thought  I  had  fallen  into  their 

'  The  Distressed  llother,  by  Ambrose  Philips.  See  Spectator  No. 
290.  This  tragedy  was  an  English  adaptation  of  Racine's  Andro- 
maque.  Philips  wrote  several  small  poems  of  smaller  merit  :  with 
an  allusion  to  the  name  of  the  author,  tiiese  were  called  Namby-Pamby 
— first,  it  is  said,  by  Harry  Carey,  and  then  by  Pope — as  suited  to 
Philips's  "eminence  in  the  infantile  style."  Hence  our  well-known 
epithet.  The  prologue  to  the  Distressed  Mother  was  by  Steele  ;  the 
humorous  epilogue  was  probably  written  by  Addison,  but  ascribed 
by  him  to  Budgell  to  bolster  up  the  latter's  literary  reputation.  Bud- 
gell  wrote  Spectator  341  in  replv  to  the  attack  upon  the  epilogue  in 
Spectator  338. 

"  The  Committee,  or  the  Faithful  Irishman,  by  Sir  Robert  Howard  ; 
a  play  caricaturing  the  Roundheads  and  exalting  the  king's  party. 

'See  if  it  is  there  still. 

*  A  gang  of  dissolute  young  men,  who  derived  their  amusement  from 
"hazing"  defenceless  pedestrians  after  dark,  not  even  exceptiiij; 


SIR  ROGFJi  AT  THE  PLAY  I49 

hands  last  night,  for  I  observed  two  or  three  histy  black 
men  that  followed  me  half  way  up  Fleet  Street,  and  mended 
their  pace  behind  me  in  proportion  as  I  put  on  to  get  away 
from  them.  You  must  know,"  continued  the  knight,  with 
a  smile,  "  I  fancied  they  hatl  a  mind  to  hunt  me,  for  I  re- 
member an  honest  gentleman  in  my  neighborhood  who' 
was  served  such  a  trick  in  King  Charles  the  Second's  time; 
for  which  reason  he  has  not  ventured  himself  in  town  ever 
since.  I  might  have  shown  them  very  good  sport  had  this 
been  their  design;  for,  as  I  am  an  old  fox-hunter,  I  should 
have  turned  and  dodged,  and  have  played  them  a  thousand 
tricks  they  had  never  seen  in  their  lives  before. "  Sir  Roger 
added  that  if  these  gentlemen  had  any  such  intention  they 
did  not  succeed  very  well  in  it;  *"  for  I  threw  them  out," 
says  he,  "at  the  end  of  Xorfolk  Street,  where  I  doubled 
the  corner  and  got  shelter  in  my  lodgings  '  before  they 
could  imagine  what  was  become  of  me.  However,"  says 
the  knight,  "  if  Captain  Sentry  will  make  one  with  us  to- 
morrow night,  and  if  you  will  both  of  you  call  upon  me 
about  four  o'clock,  that  we  may  be  at  the  house  before  it 
is  full,  I  will  have  my  own  coach  in  readiness  to  attend 
you,  for  John  tells  me  he  has  got  the  fore  wheels  mended." 
The  captain,  who  did  not  fail  to  meet  me  there  at  the 
appointed  hour,  bid  Sir  Eoger  fear  nothing,  for  that  he 
had  put  on  the  same  sword  which  he  made  use  of  at  the 
battle  of  Steenkirk.2  Sir  Eoger's  servants,  and  among 
the  rest  my  old  friend  the  butler,  had,  I  found,  provided 
themselves  with  good  oaken  plants  ^  to  attend  their  master 

women.  Just  a  week  before  this  date  the  Queen  had  issued  a  procla- 
mation against  them  ;  but  the  day  after  this  paper  was  written  Swift 
exclaims:  "The  Mohocks  go  on  still,  and  cut  people's  faces  every 
night  !  but  they  shan't  cut  mine  ; — I  like  it  better  as  it  is."  See 
Greene's  note  to  Spectator  335  ;  read  Spectators  324,  332,  347. 

*  Sir  Roger  has  changed  to  a  less  fashionable  quarter.  Cf,  note  3, 
p.  7.     How  do  you  account  for  this  ? 

"  In  1693.  The  English  were  defeated.  In  Webster's  Interna- 
tional see  how  this  battle  ciu'iously  gave  rise  to  a  name  for  a  neck- 
cloth. Bead  the  account  of  the  battle  in  Macaulay's  History  of  Eng- 
land. '  Cudgels. 


150  >^/^  ROGER  DE  COVERLET 

upou  this  occasion.  When  he  had  placed  him  in  his  coach, 
with  myself  at  his  left  hand,  the  captain  before  him,  and 
his  butler  at  the  head  of  his  footmen  in  the  rear,  we  con- 
voyed him  in  safety  to  the  playhouse,  where,  after  having 
marched  up  the  entry  in  good  order,  the  captain  and  I 
went  in  with  him,  and  seated  him  betwixt  us  in  the  pit. 
As  soon  as  the  house  was  full,  and  the  candles  lighted,  my 
old  friend  stood  up  and  looked  about  him  with  tliat  pleas- 
ure which  a  mind  seasoned  with  humanity  naturally  feels 
in  itself  at  the  sight  of  a  multitude  of  people  who  seem 
pleased  with  one  another,  and  partake  of  the  same  com- 
mon entertainment.  I  could  not  but  fancy  to  myself,  as 
the  old  man  stood  up  in  the  middle  of  the  pit,  that  he 
made  a  very  proper  centre  to  a  tragic  audience.  Upon  the 
entering  of  Pyrrhus,  the  knight  told  me  that  he  did  not 
believe  the  King  of  France  ^  himself  had  a  better  strut.  I 
was,  indeed,  very  attentive  to  my  old  friend's  remarks, 
because  I  looked  upon  them  as  a  piece  of  natural  criticism ; 
and  was  well  pleased  to  hear  him,  at  the  conclusion  of 
almost  every  scene,  telling  me  that  he  could  not  imagine 
how  the  play  woukl  end.  One  while  he  appeared  much 
concerned  for  Andromache,  and  a  little  while  after  as  much 
for  Ilermione;  and  was  extremely  puzzled  to  think  what 
would  become  of  Pyrrhus. 

When  Sir  Roger  saw  Andromache's  obstinate  refusal  to 
her  lover's  importunities,  he  whispered  me  in  the  ear,  that 
he  was  sure  she  would  never  have  him;  to  Avhich  he  added, 
with  a  more  than  ordinary  vehemence,  ''  You  can't  imag- 
ine, sir,  what  'tis  to  have  to  do  with  a  widow."  Upon 
Pyrrhus  his"^  threatening  afterwards  to  leave  her,  the  knight 
shook  his  head,  and  muttered  to  himself,  "Ay,  do  if  you 
can."  This  part  dwelt  so  much  upon  my  friend's  imagi- 
nation, that  at  the  close  of  the  third  act,  as  I  was  thinking 
of  something  else,  he  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  These  widows, 

'  Who  was  king  of  France  at  this  time  ?  See  Thackeray's  picture 
of  "Rex,"  "Louis,"  and  ''Louis  Rex,"  in  The  Paris  Sketch  Book 
— "  Meditations  at  Versailles."  *  I.  e.,  Pyrrhus's. 


SIR  ROGER  AT  THE  PLAY  151 

sir,  are  the  most  perverse  creatures  in  tlie  world.  But 
pray,"  says  he,  *'you  that  are  a  critic,  is  this  play  accord- 
ing to  your  dramatic  rules,  as  you  call  them  ?  Should 
your  people  in  tragedy  always  talk  to  be  understood? 
Why,  there  is  not  a  single  sentence  in  this  play  that  I  do 
not  know  the  meaning  of." 

The  fourth  act  very  luckily '  begun  before  I  had  time  to 
give  the  old  gentleman  an  answer.  '"Well,"  says  the 
knight,  sitting  down  with  great  satisfaction,  "I  suppose 
we  are  now  to  see  Hector's  ghost."  He  then  renewed  his 
attention,  and,  from  time  to  time,  fell  a  praising  the 
widow.  He  made,  indeed,  a  little  mistake  as  to  one  of  her 
pages,  Avhom  at  his  first  entering  he  took  for  Astyanax;  ^ 
but  he  quickly  set  himself  right  in  that  particular,  though, 
at  the  same  time,  he  owned  he  should  have  been  very  glad 
to  have  seen  the  little  boy,  "who,"  says  he,  "must  needs 
be  a  very  fine  child  by  the  account  that  is  given  of  him." 
'  Upon  Hermione's  going  off  with  a  menace  to  Pyrrhus, 
the  audience  gave  a  loud  clap,  to  which  8ir  Roger  added, 
"  On  my  word,  a  notable  young  baggage!  " 

As  there  was  a  very  remarkable  silence  and  stillness  in 
the  audience  during  the  whole  action,  it  was  natural  for 
them  to  take  the  opportunity  of  these  intervals  between  the 
acts  to  express  their  opinion  of  the  players  and  of  their 
respective  parts.  Sir  Eoger,  hearing  a  cluster  of  them 
praise  Orestes,  struck  in  with  them,  and  told  them  that  he 
thought  his  friend  Pvlades  was  a  very  sensible  man;  as  they 
were  afterwards  applauding  Pyrrhus,  Sir  Roger  put  in  a 
second  time:  "  And  let  me  tell  you,"  says  he,  "  though  he 
speaks  but  little,  I  like  the  old  fellow  in  whiskers  ^  as  well 

'Otherwise  the  Spectator  would  have  been  constrained  to  speak. 
"See  a  classical  dictionary.     In  the  humorous  epilogue  referred  to 
above  (c/.  note  1,  p.  148)  the  boy  is  nicknamed  "  Sty  "  : 

"  My  spouse,  poor  man,  could  not  live  out  the  play, 
But  aid  commodiouely  on  his  wedding  day  ; 
While  I,  his  relict,  made  at  one  bold  fling. 
Myself  a  princess,  and  young  Sty  a  king." 

'  Probably  Phoenix.  Read,  if  you  can  procure  it,  a  copy  of  Philips's 
play. 


152  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVER  LEY 

as  any  of  them."  Captain  Sentry,  seeing  two  or  three 
wags,  who  sat  near  us,  lean  with  an  attentive  ear  towards 
Sir  Roger,  and  fearing  lest  they  should  smoke  ^  the  knight, 
plucked  him  by  the  elbow,  and  whispered  something  in  his 
ear  that  lasted  till  the  opening  of  the  fifth  act.  The  knight 
was  wonderfully  attentive  to  the  account  which  Orestes 
gives  of  Pyrrhus  his  ^  death,  and,  at  the  conclusion  of  it, 
told  me  it  was  such  a  bloody  piece  of  work  that  he  was 
glad  it  was  not  done  upon  the  stage.  ^  Seeing  afterwards 
Orestes  in  his  raving  fit,  he  grew  more  than  ordinary  seri- 
ous, and  took  occasion  to  moralize  (in  his  way)  upon  an 
evil  conscience,  adding,  that  Orestes  in  his  madness  looked 
as  if  he  saw  something.* 

As  we  were  the  first  that  came  into  the  house,  so  we 
were  the  last  that  went  out  of  it;  being  resolved  to  have  a 
clear  passage  for  our  old  friend,  whom  we  did  not  care  to 
venture  among  the  justling  of  the  crowd.  Sir  Roger  went 
out  fully  satisfied  with  his  entertainment,  and  we  guarded 
him  to  his  lodgings  in  the  same  manner  that  we  brought 
him  to  the  playhouse;  being  highly  pleased,  for  my  own 
part,  not  only  with  the  performance  of  the  excellent  piece 
which  had  been  presented,  but  with  the  satisfaction  which 
it  had  given  to  the  good  old  man.  L. 

'  Quiz  ;  mock,  while  pretending  to  ask  him  serious  questions, 
"^ I.e.,  Pyrrhus's. 

'  How  does  this  accord  with  the  Greek  design  in  the  production  of 
a  tragedy  ?  *  A  piece  of  "  natural  criticism."    See  p.  150. 


Sm  ROGER'S  ADVICE  FROM  WILL  HONEYCOMB    153 

XX  XL 

siK  Roger's  advice  from  will  iioxeycomb. 

[Spectator  No.  ^h^.     Tuesday,  Ajml  22,  1712.     Budgell.] 

Torva  leaena  lupiim  sequitur,  lupus  ipse  capellam  ; 
Plorentem  cytisuin  sequitur  lasciva  capella. 

Virgil. 

As  we  were  at  the  club,  last  night,  I  observed  that  my 
friend  Sir  Roger,  contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  sat  very 
silent,  and  instead  of  minding  what  was  said  by  the  com. 
pany  was  whistling  to  himself  in  a  very  thoughtful  mood, 
and  playing  with  a  cork.  I  jogged  Sir  Andrew  Freeport, 
who  sat  between  us,  and  as  we  were  both  observing  him,  we 
BEW  the  knight  shake  his  head  and  heard  him  say  to  himself, 
"  A  foolish  woman!  I  can't  believe  it."  Sir  Andrew  gave 
him  a  gentle  pat  upon  the  shoulder,  and  offered  to  lay  him  a 
bottle  of  wine  that  he  was  thinking  of  tlie  widow.  My  old 
friend  started,  and,  recovering  out  of  his  brown  study, 
told  Sir  Andrew  that  once  in  his  life  he  had  been  in  the 
right.  In  short,  after  some  little  hesitation.  Sir  Roger 
told  us,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart,  that  he  had  just  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  his  steward,  Avliich  acquainted  him 
that  his  old  rival  and  antagonist  in  the  county.  Sir  David 
Dundrum,  had  been  making  a  visit  to  tlie  widow.  "  I  low- 
ever, "  says  Sir  Roger,  "  I  can  never  think  that  she'll  have 
a  man  that's  half  a  year  older  than  I  am,  and  a  noted 
Republican  into  the  bargain." 

AVill  Honeycomb,  who  looks  upon  love  as  his  particular 
province,  interrupting  our  friend  with  a  jaunty  laugh  : 
*'I  thought,  knight,"  says  he,  ''thou  hadst  lived  long 
enough  in  the  world  not  to  pin  thy  happiness  upon  one 
that  is  a  woman  and  a  widow.  I  think  that  without  van- 
ity I  may  pretend  to  know  as  much  of  the  female  world  as 


154  SIM  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

any  man  in  Great  Britain,  though  the  chief  of  my  knowl- 
edge consists  in  this,  that  they  are  not  to  be  known." 
Will  immediately,  with  his  usual  fluency,  rambled  into  an 
account  of  his  own  amours.  "  I  am  now,"  says  he,  "  upon 
the  verge  of  fifty  "  (though,  by  the  way,  we  all  knew  he 
was  turned  of  threescore).  "You  may  easily  guess," 
continued  Will,  "  that  I  have  not  lived  so  long  in  the 
world  without  having  had  some  thoughts  of  settling  in  it, 
as  the  phrase  is.  To  tell  you  truly,  I  have  several  times 
tried  my  fortune  that  way,  though  I  can't  much  boast  of 
my  success. 

"  I  made  my  first  addresses  to  a  young  lady  in  the  coun- 
try; but  when  I  thought  things  were  pretty  well  drawing 
to  a  conclusion,  her  father,  happening  to  hear  that  I  had 
formerly  boarded  with  a  surgeon,  the  old  put  ^  forbid  me 
his  house,  and  within  a  fortnight  after  married  his  daugh- 
ter to  a  fox-hunter  in  the  neighborhood. 

'"  I  made  my  next  applications  to  a  widow,  and  attacked 
her  so  briskly  that  I  thought  myself  within  a  fortnight  of 
her.  As  I  waited  upon  her  one  morning,  she  told  me  that 
she  intended  to  keep  her  ready  money  and  jointure  in  her 
own  hand,  and  desired  me  to  call  upon  her  attorney  in 
Lyon's  Inn,  who  would  adjust  ^  with  me  what  it  was  proper 
for  me  to  add  to  it.  I  was  so  rebuffed  by  this  overture, 
that  I  never  inquired  either  for  her  or  her  attorney 
afterwards. 

"  A  few  months  after,  I  addressed  myself  to  a  young  lady 
who  was  an  only  daughter  and  of  a  good  family;  I  danced 
with  her  at  several  balls,  squeezed  her  by  the  hand,  said  soft 
things  to  her,  and,  in  short,  made  no  doubt  of  ^  her  heart; 
and,  though  my  fortune  was  not  equal  to  hers,  I  was  in 
hopes  that  her  fond  father  would  not  deny  her  the  man 
she  had  fixed  her  affections  upon.  But,  as  I  went  one  day 
to  the  house  in  order  to  break  the  matter  to  him,  I  found 
the  whole  family  in  confusion,  and  heard,  to  my  unspeak- 

'  Pttt :  a  term  of  contempt.  '  Arrange.  '  Of  capturing. 


SIR  ROGERS  ADVICE  FROM  WILL  HONEYCOMB    155 

able  surprise,  that  Miss  Jenny  was^  that  very  Tuoniiiig  run 
away  with  the  butler. 

"  I  then  courted  a  second  widow,  and  am  at  a  loss  to 
this  day  how  I  came  to  miss  her.  for  she  had  often  com- 
mended my  person  and  beliavior.  Her  maid,  indeed, 
told  me  one  day  that  lier  mistress  liad  said  she  never  saw 
a  gentleman  with  such  a  s|iin(ile  jnar  of  legs-  as  Mr. 
Honeycomb. 

"After  this  I  laid  siege  to  four  heiresses  successively, 
and  being  a  handsome  young  dog  in  those  days,  quickly 
made  a  breach  in  their  hearts;  but  I  don't  know  how  it 
came  to  pass,  thougli  I  seldom  failed  of  getting  the  daugh- 
ter's consent,  I  could  never  in  my  life  get  the  old  })eoplo  on 
my  side. 

"  I  could  give  you  an  account  of  a  thousand  other  unsuc- 
«essful  attempts,  particularly  of  one  which  I  made  some 
years  since  upon  an  old  woman,  whom  1  had  certainly 
borne  away  with  flying  colors  if  her  relations  had  not  come 
pouring  in  to  her  assistance  from  all  ])arts  of  England; 
luiy,  I  believe  I  should  have  g(jt  her  at  last,  had  n(jt  she 
been  carried  off  by  an  hard  frost." 

As  Will's  transitions  are  extremely  quick,  he  turned 
from  Sir  Roger,  and,  applying  himself  to  me,  told  me 
there  was  a  passage  in  the  book  I  had  considered  last  Sat- 
urday ^  which  deserved  to  be  writ  in  letters  of  gold;  and, 
taking  out  a  pocket  Milton,  read  the  following  lines,  which 
are  part  of  one  of  Adam's  speeches  to  Eve  after  the  fall; — 

"  Oil  1  wliy  did  our 
Creator  wise  !  that  peopled  liigliest  lieuv'a 
With  spirits  masculine,  create  at  last 
This  novelty  on  earth,  this  fair  defect 
Of  Nature,  and  not  fill  tiie  world  at  once 
With  men,  as  angels,  without  feminine, 
Or  find  some  other  way  to  j^enerate 

'  Had.     '  Was  this  commendation,  or  (hies  the  "  indeed"  qualify  it? 
*Tlie  lentil  book  of  Paradise  Lod,  in  Spectator  No.  357. 


156  SIR  JiOGER  BE  COVERLET 

Mankind  ?     T)>is  mischief  had  not  then  befall'n, 
And  more  tl>at  shall  befall  ;  innninerable 
Disturbances  on  earth  through  female  snares, 
And  straight  conjunction  with  this  sex  :  for  either 
He  never  shall  find  out  fit  mate,  but  such 
As  some  misfortune  brings  him,  or  mistake  : 
Or,  whom  he  wishes  most,  shall  seldom  gain 
Through  her  perverseness  ;  but  shall  see  her  gain'd 
By  a  fur  worse  :  or  if  she  love,  withheld 
By  parents  :  or  his  hapjiiest  choice  too  late 
Sliall  meet  already  link'd,  and  wedlock-bound 
To  a  fell  adversary,  his  hate  or  siiame  ; 
Which  infinite  calamity  sIuiU  cause 
To  human  life,  aud  household  peace  confound."' 

Sir  Eoger  listened  to  this  passage  with  great  attention, 
and,  desiring  Mr.  Honeycomb  to  fold  down  a  leaf  at  the 
place,  and  lend  him  his  book,  the  knight  put  it  up  in  his 
pocket,  and  told  us  that  he  would  read  over  those  verses 
again  before  he  went  to  bed.^  X.^ 

'Find  these  lines  and  verify  the   quotation:   yoti  will  see  that 
Budgell  does  not  quote  exactly. 
'■^  Imagine  the  scene  and  the*  old  knight's  "speculations"  thereon. 
*  See  note  3,  p.  79. 


SIR  BUG  EH    AT    VAUXHALL  I57 

XXXII. 

SIR    ROGER    AT    VAUXHALL. 

{Spectator  No.  Z^^.     Tuesdai/,  Jlay  20.  i:i2.     Addisofi.] 

Criminibus  debent  hortos . 

J  L' VENAL. 

As  I  was  sitting  in  my  chamber  and  thinking  on  a  snb- 
ject  for  my  next  "  Spectator,"  I  heard  two  or  three  irregu- 
lar bounces  at  my  landlady's  door,  and  upon  the  opening 
of  it,  a  loud,  cheerful  voice  inquiring  whether  the  philos- 
opher was  at  home.  The  child  who  went  to  the  door 
answered  very  innocently  that  he  did  not  lodge  there.  I 
immediately  recollected  that  it  was  my  good  friend  Sir 
Roger's  voice,  and  that  I  had  promised  to  go  with  him  on 
the  water  to  Spring  Garden,^  in  case  it  proved  a  good 
evening.  The  kniglit  put  me  in  mind  of  my  promise 
from  the  bottom  of  the  staircase,  but  told  me  that  if  I  was 
speculating  he  would  stay  below  till  I  had  done.  Upon 
my  coming  down,  I  found  all  the  children  of  the  family 
got  about  my  old  friend,  and  my  landlady  herself,  who 
is  a  notable  prating  gossip,  engaged  in  a  conference  Avith 
him,  being  mightily  pleased  Avith  his  stroking  her  little 
boy  upon  the  head,  and  bidding  him  be  a  good  child  and 
miud  his  book. 

We  were  no  sooner  come  to  the  Temjile  Stairs  but  we 
were  surrounded  with  a  crowd  of  watermen,  offering  lis 
their  respective  services.  Sir  Roger,  after  having  looked 
about  him  very  attentively,  spied  one  Avith  a  wooden  leg, 
and  immediately  gave  him  orders  to  get  his  boat  ready. 
As  Ave  Avere  walking  toAvards  it,  "  You  must  know,"  says 
Sir  Roger,  "  I  never  make  use  of  anybody  to  row  me  that 

'At  Charing  Cross:  afterwai"ds  called  Fox-hall,  or  Vauxhall,  when 
the  gardens  began  to  be  built  upon. 


158  SIR  ROOER  DE  COVERLEY 

has  not  either  lost  a  leg  or  an  arm.  I  would  rather  bate 
him  a  few  strokes  of  his  oar  than  not  employ  an  honest 
man  that  had  been  wounded  in  the  Queen's  service.  If  I 
was  a  lord  or  a  bishop,  and  kept  a  barge,  I  would  not  put 
a  fellow  in  my  livery  that  had  not  a  wooden  leg." 

My  old  friend,  after  having  seated  himself,  and  trimmed 
the  boat  with  his  coachman,  who,  being  a  very  sober  maUi 
always  serves  for  ballast  on  these  occasions,  we  made  tli& 
best  of  our  way  for  Fox-hall.  Sir  Koger  obliged  the 
waterman  to  give  us  the  history  of  his  right  leg,  and, 
hearing  that  he  had  left  it  at  La  Hogue,^  with  many  par- 
ticulars which  passed  in  that  glorious  action,  the  knight, 
in  the  triumph  of  his  heart,  made  several  reflections  on 
the  greatness  of  the  British  nation;  as,  that  one  English- 
man could  beat  three  Frenchmen;  that  we  could  never  be 
in  danger  of  popery  so  long  as  we  took  care  of  our  fleet; 
that  the  Thames  was  the  noblest  river  in  Europe;  that 
London  Bridge  was  a  greater  piece  of  work  than  any  of 
the  seven  wonders  of  the  world ;  with  many  other  honest 
prejudices  whicli  naturally  cleave  to  the  heart  of  a  true 
Englishman. 

After  some  short  pause,  the  old  knight,  turning  about 
his  head  twice  or  thrice,  to  take  a  survey  of  this  great  me- 
tropolis, bid  me  observe  how  thick  the  city  was  set  with 
churches,  and  that  there  was  scarce  a  single  steeple  on  this 
side  Temple  Bar.  "  A  most  heathenish  sight!"  says  Sir 
Roger;  "there  is  no  religion  at  this  end  of  the  town. 
The  fifty  new  churches  will  very  much  mend  the  prospect; 
but  church  work  is  slow,  church  work  is  slow!  " 
r~  I  do  not  remember  I  have  anywhere  mentioned,  in  Sir 
Roger's  character,  his  custom  of  saluting  everybody  that 
passes  by  him  with  a  good-morrow  or  a  good-night.  This 
the  old  man  does  out  of  the  overflowings  of  his  humanity, 
though  at  the  same  time  it  renders  liim  so  popular  among 
all  his  country  neighbors  that  it  is  thought  to  have  gone 

'  Ivead  Browniii":'s  Herve  Riel. 


SIR  liOUER   AT   XAUXHALL  1o9 

a  good  way  iu  making  him  once  or  twice  knight  of  the 
shire. ^ 

He  cannot  forbear  this  exercise  of  benevolence  even  in 
town,  when  he  meets  Avitli  any  one  in  liis  morning  or  even- 
ing walk.  It  broke  from  him  to  several  boats  that  passed 
by  us  upon  the  water;  but  to  the  kniglit's  great  sur])rise, 
as  he  gave  the  good-night  to  two  or  three  young  fellows  a 
little  before  our  landing,  one  of  tliem,  instead  of  return- 
ing the  civility,  asked  us  what  queer  old  put  '^  we  had  in 
the  boat,  with  a  great  deal  of  tlie  like  Thames  ribaldry. 
Sir  Roger  seemed  a  little  shocked  at  first,  but  at  length, 
assuming  a  face  of  magistracy,  told  us  that  if  he  were  a 
Middlesex  justice  he  would  make  such  vagrants  know  that 
her  Majesty's  subjects  were  no  more  to  bo  abused  by  water 
than  by  land. 

We  were  now  arrived  at  Spring  Garden,  which  is  ex- 
quisitely pleasant  at  this  time  of  year.  When  I  con- 
sidered the  fragrancy  of  the  walks  and  bowers,  with  the 
choirs  of  birds  that  sung  upon  the  trees,  and  the  loose 
tribe  of  people  that  walked  under  their  shades,  I  could  not 
but  look  upon  the  place  as  a  kind  of  Mahometan  paradise. 
Sir  Roger  told  me  it  put  him  iu  mind  of  a  little  coppice  by 
his  house  in  the  country,  which  his  chaplain  used  to  call 
an  aviary  of  nightingales.  ''  You  must  understand,"  says 
the  knight,  "  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  pleases  a 
man  in  love  so  much  as  your  nightingale.  Ah,  ^Mr.  Spec- 
tator! the  many  moonlight  nights  that  I  have  walked  by 
m)-self  and  thought  on  the  widow  by  the  music  of  the 
nightingales!"  He  here  fetched  a  deep  sigh,  and  was 
falling  into  a  fit  of  musing,  when  a  mask,^  who  came 
behind  him,  gave  him  a  gentle  tap  upon  the  shoulder,  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  drink  a  bottle  of  mead  with  her. 
But  the  knight,  being  startled  at  so  unexpected  a  familiar- 
ity, and  displeased  to  be  interrupted  in  his  thoughts  of  the 

'  An  unconscious  politician.  '  Note  1,  p.  154. 

•  Otie  who  wore  a  mask. 


IGO  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

widow,  told  her  she  was  a  wanton  baggage,  and  bid  her  go 
about  her  business. 

We  concluded  our  Avalk  with  a  glass  of  Burton  ale  and 
a  slice  of  hung  beef.  When  we  had  done  eating,  our- 
selves, the  knight  called  a  waiter  to  him  and  bid  him  carry 
the  remainder  to  the  waterman  that  had  but  one  leg.  I 
perceived  the  fellow  stared  upon  him  at  the  oddness  of  the 
message,  and  was  going  to  be  saucy,  upon  which  I  ratified 
the  knight's  commands  with  a  peremptory  look.^ 

As  we  were  going  out  of  the  garden,  my  old  friend 
thinking  himself  obliged,  as  a  member  of  the  quorum,^  to 
animadvert  upon  the  morals  of  the  place,  told  the  mistress 
of  the  house,  who  sat  at  the  bar,  that  he  should  be  a  bet- 
ter customer  to  her  garden  if  there  were  more  nightin- 
gales and  fewer  masks.  I. 

'  A  look,  observe  ;  not  an  order.  *  As  a  justice  of  the  peace. 


JSIR  IKWEir^  DEJiTH  IGl 

XXXIII. 
SIR  Roger's  death, 

\S'pe,'-\cior  No.  517.     Thursday,  October  23,  1712.     Addison.] 

Hen  pietas  !  heu  prisca  fides  I . 

ViRGir., 

We  last  night  received  a  piece  of  ill  news  at  our  club 
which  very  sensibly  afflicted  every  one  of  us.  I  question 
not  but  my  readers  themselves  will  be  troubled  at  the  hear- 
ing of  it.  To  keep  them  no  longer  in  suspense,  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverley  is  dead.  He  departed  this  life  at  his  house  in 
the  country,  after  a  few  weeks'  sickness.  Sir  Andrew 
Freeport  has  a  letter  from  one  of  his  correspondents  in 
those  parts,  that  informs  him  the  old  man  caught  a  cold 
at  the  county-sessions,  as  he  was  very  warmly  promoting 
an  address  of  his  own  penning,  in  which  he  succeeded 
according  to  his  wishes.  But  this  particular  comes  from 
a  Whig  justice  of  peace,  who  was  always  Sir  Roger's 
enemy  and  antagonist.  I  have  letters  both  from  the  chap- 
lain and  Captain  Sentry  which  mention  nothing  of  it,  but 
are  filled  with  many  particulars  to  the  honor  of  the  good 
old  man.  I  have  likewise  a  letter  from  the  butler,  Avho 
took  so  much  care  of  me  last  summer  Avhen  I  was  at  the 
knight's  house.  As  my  friend  the  butler  mentions,  in  the 
simplicity  of  his  heart,  several  circumstances  the  others 
have  passed  over  in  silence,  I  shall  give  my  reader  a  copy 
of  his  letter  without  any  alteration  or  diminution. 

"  Honoured  Sir, 

"  Knowing  that  you  was  my  old  Master's  good  Friend,  I 
could  not  forbear  sending  you  the  melancholy  News  of 
his  Death,  which  has  afflicted  the  whole  Country,  as  well 
as  his  poor  Servants,  who  loved  him,  I  may  say,  better 
than  we  did  our  Lives.  I  am  afraid  he  caught  his  Death 
the  last  County  Sessions,  where  he  would  go  to  see  Justice 
done  to  a  poor  Widow  Woman,  and  her  Fatherless  Chil- 


1G3  ^Ili  ROGJ'JR  DE  COVERLEY 

dren,  that  had  been  wronged  by  a  neighbouring  Gentle- 
man; for  you  know,  Sir,  my  good  Master  was  always  the 
poor  Man's  Friend.  Upon  his  coming  home,  the  first 
Complaint  he  made  was,  that  he  had  lost  his  Roast- Beef 
Stomach,  not  being  able  to  touch  a  Sirloin,  whicli  was  served 
up  according  to  Custom;  and  you  know  he  used  to  take 
great  Delight  in  it.  From  that  time  forward  he  grew  worse 
and  worse,  but  still  kept  a  good  Heart  to  the  last.  Indeed, 
we  were  once  in  great  Hope  of  his  Recovery,  upon  a  kind 
Message  that  was  sent  him  from  the  Widow  Lady  whom  he 
had  made  love  to  the  Forty  last  Years  of  his  Life;  but  this 
only  proved  a  Light'ning  before  Death.  He  has  be- 
queathed to  this  Lady,  as  a  token  of  his  Love,  a  great  Pearl 
Necklace,  and  a  Couple  of  Silver  Bracelets  set  with  Jewels, 
which  belonged  to  my  good  old  Lady  his  Mother:  He  has 
bequeathed  the  fine  white  Gelding,  that  he  used  to  ride 
a  hunting  upon,  to  his  Chaplain,  because  he  thought  he 
would  be  kind  to  him,  and  has  left  you  all  his  Books.  He 
has,  moreover,  bequeathed  to  the  Chaplain  a  very  pretty 
Tenement  with  good  Lands  about  it.  It  beiug  a  very  cold 
Day  when  he  made  his  Will,  he  left  for  Mourning,  to  every 
Man  in  the  Parish,  a  great  Frize-Coat,  and  to  every  Wo- 
man a  black  Riding-hood.  It  was  a  most  moving  Sight  to 
see  him  take  leave  of  his  poor  Servants,  commending  us 
all  for  our  Fidelity,  whilst  we  were  not  able  to  speak  a  Word 
for  weeping.  As  we  most  of  us  are  grown  Gray-headed 
in  our  Dear  Master's  Service,  he  has  left  us  Pensions  and 
Legacies,  which  Ave  may  live  very  comfortably  upon,  the 
remaining  part  of  our  Days.  He  has  bequeatli'd  a  great 
deal  more  in  Charity,  which  is  not  yet  come  to  my  Knowl- 
edge, and  it  is  peremptorily  said  in  the  Parish,  that  he  has 
left  Mony  to  build  a  Steeple  to  the  Church;  for  he  was 
heard  to  say  some  time  ago,  that  if  he  lived  two  Years 
longer,  Coverly  Church  should  have  a  Steeple  to  it.  The 
Chaplain  tells  everybody  that  he  made  a  very  good  End, 
and  never  speaks  of  him  without  Tears.  He  was  buried 
according  to  his  own  Directions,  among  the  Family  of  the 
Coverly''s,  on  the  Left  Hand  of  his  Father,  Sir  Arthnr. 
The  Coffin  was  carried  by  Six  of  his  Tenants,  and  the  Pall 
held  up  by  Six  of  the  Quorum :  The  whole  Parish  fol- 
low'd  the  Corps  with  heavy  Hearts,  and  in  their  Mourning 
liuits,  the  Men  in  Frize,  and  the  Women  in  Riding-Hoods. 


SIR  ROGETrS  DEATH  163 

Captain  Sentry,  my  Master's  Xephew,  lias  taken  Pos- 
session of  the  Hall-House,  and  the  whole  Estate.  When 
my  old  Master  saw  him  a  little  before  his  Death,  he  shook 
him  by  the  Hand,  and  wished  him  Joy  of  the  Estate  which 
was  falling  to  him,  desiring  him  only  to  make  good  Use 
of  it,  and  to  pay  the  several  Ijogacies,  and  the  Gifts  of 
Charity  which  he  told  him  he  luid  left  as  Quitrents  upon 
the  Estate.  The  Captain  truly  seems  a  courteous  Man, 
though  he  says  but  little.  He  makes  much  of  those  Avhom 
my  Master  loved,  and  shews  great  Kindness  to  the  old 
House-dog,  that  you  know  my  poor  Master  was  so  fond  of. 
It  would  have  gone  to  your  Heart  to  have  heard  the  Moans 
the  dumb  Creature  made  on  the  Day  of  my  Master's  Death. 
He  has  ne'er  joyed  himself  since;  no  more  has  any  of  us. 
'Twas  the  melancholiest  Day  for  the  poor  People  that  ever 
happened  in  Worcestershire.  This  being  all  from, 
^^ Honoured  Sir, 

''Your  most  Sorrowful  Servant, 

"Edward  Biscuit." 

''  P.S.  My  Master  desired,  some  Weeks  before  he  died, 
that  a  Book  which  comes  up  to  you  by  the  Carrier  should 
be  given  to  Sir  Andrew  Freeport,  in  his  Xame. " 

This  letter,  notwithstanding  the  poor  butler's  manner 
of  writing  it,  gave  us  such  an  idea  of  our  good  old  friend 
that  upon  the  reading  of  it  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the 
club.  Sir  Andrew,  opening  the  book,  found  it  to  be  a 
collection  of  Acts  of  Parliament.  There  was  in  particular 
the  Act  of  Uniformity,^  with  some  passages  in  it  marked 
by  Sir  Eoger's  own  hand.  Sir  Andrew  found  that  they 
related  to  two  or  three  points  which  he  had  disputed  with 
Sir  Eoger  the  last  time  he  appeared  at  the  club.  Sir 
Andrew,  who  Avould  have  been  merry  at  such  an  incident 
on  another  occasion,  at  the  sight  of  the  old  man's  hand- 
writing burst  into  tears,  and  put  the  book  into  his  pocket. 
Captain  Sentry  informs  me  that  the  knight  has  left  rings 
and  mourning  for  every  one  in  the  club.  0. 

'  An  Act  passed  in  1661  prescribing  the  form  of  public  prayers, 
administration  of  sacraments,  and  other  rites  of  the  Established 
Church  of  England. 


1G4  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

XXXIV. 

SIR  Roger's  character,  estate,  and  successor. 

[Spectator  No.  544.     Monday,  Nov.  24,  1712.     Steele.] 

Nunquam  ita  quisquam  bene  subducta  ratione  ad  vitam  fuit 
Qiiin  res,  aetas  usus  semper  aliquid  apportet  novi 
Aliquid  moneat,  ut  ilia,  quae  te  scire  credas,  nescias 
Et,  quae  tibi  putaris  prima,  in  experiundo  ut  repudies. 

Terence. 

There  are,  I  think,  sentiments  in  the  following  letter 
from  my  friend  Captain  Sentry,  which  discover  a  rational 
and  eqnal  frame  of  mind,  as  well  prepared  for  an  advanta- 
geous as  an  unfortunate  change  of  condition. 

Coverley  Hall,  Nov.  15, 
AVorcestershire. 
Sir, 

I  am  come  to  the  succession  of  the  estate  of  my  honored 
kinsman.  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley;  and  I  assure  you  I  find 
it  no  easy  task  to  keep  up  the  figure  of  master  of  the  for- 
tune which  was  so  handsomely  enjoyed  by  that  honest, 
Flain  man.  I  cannot  (with  respect  to  the  great  obligations 
have,  be  it  spoken)  reflect  upon  his  character,  but  I  am 
confirmed  in  the  truth  which  I  have,  I  think,  heard  spoken 
at  the  club;  to  wit,  that  a  man  of  a  warm  and  well-dis- 
posed heart,  with  a  very  small  capacity,  is  highly  superior 
in  human  society  to  him  who,  with  the  greatest  talents, 
is  cold  and  languid  in  his  affections. 

But,  alas!  why  do  I  make  a  difficulty  in  speaking  of 
my  worthy  ancestor's  failings  ?  His  little  absurdities  and 
incapacity  for  the  conversation  of  the  politest  men  are  dead 
Avith  him,  and  his  greater  qualities  are  even  now  useful 
to  him.  I  know  not  whether  by  naming  those  disabilities 
I  do  not  enhance  his  merit,  since  he  has  left  behind  him  a 
reputation  in  his  country  which  would  be  worth  the  pains 
of  the  wisest  man's  whole  life  to  arrive  at. 


SIR  ROGERS  CHARACTER,   ESTATE,   ETC.     lOo 

By  the  way,  I  must  observe  to  you  that  many  of  your 
readers  have  mistook  that  passage  in  your  writings,  wherein 
Sir  Roger  is  reported  to  liave  inquired  into  the  private 
character  of  the  young  woman  at  the  tavern. ^  I  know  you 
mentioned  that  circumstance  as  an  instance  of  the  sim- 
plicity and  innocence  of  his  mind,  Avhicli  made  him  imag- 
ine it  a  very  easy  thing  to  rechiim  one  of  those  criminals. 
The  less  discerning  of  your  readers  cann<^t  enter  into  that 
delicacy  of  description  in  tlie  character. 

But,  indeed,  my  chief  business  at  this  time  is  to  repre- 
sent to  you  my  present  state  of  mind,  and  the  satisfactions 
I  promise  to  myself  in  the  possession  of  my  new  fortune. 
I  have  continued  all  Sir  Roger's  servants,  except  such  as  it 
was  a  relief  to  dismiss  into  little  beings  ^  within  my  manor. 
Those  who  are  in  a  list  of  the  good  knight's  own  hand  to 
be  taken  care  of  by  me,  I  have  quartered  upon  such  as 
have  taken  new  leases  of  me,  and  added  so  many  advan- 
tages during  the  lives  of  the  persons  so  quartered,  that  it 
is  the  interest  of  those  whom  they  are  joined  with,  to  cher- 
ish and  befriend  them  upoii  all  occasions. 

I  find  a  considerable  sum  of  ready  money,  which  I  am 
laying  out  among  my  dependants  at  the  common  interest, 
but  with  a  design  to  lend  it  according  to  their  merit,  rather 
than  according  to  their  ability.  I  shall  lay  a  tax  upon  such 
as  I  have  highly  obliged,  to  become  security  to  me  for  such 
of  their  own  poor  youth,  whether  male  or  female,  as  want 
help  towards  getting  into  some  being  ^  in  the  world.  I 
hope  I  shall  be  able  to  manage  my  affairs  so  as  to  improve 
my  fortune  every  year  by  doing  acts  of  kindness.  I  wull 
lend  my  money  to  the  use  of  none  but  indigent  men,  se- 
cured by  such  as  have  ceased  to  be  indigent  by  the  favor  of 
my  family  or  myself.  AVhat  makes  this  the  more  practi- 
cable is,  that  if  they  will  do  any  one  good  with  my  money, 
they  are  welcome  to  it  upon  their  own  security:  ajid  I 
make  no  exception  against  it,  because  the  persons  who  enter 
into  the  obligations,  do  it  for  their  own  family.  I  have  laid 
out  four  thousand  pounds  this  way,  and  it  is  not  to  be  imag- 
ined what  a  crowd  of  people  are  obliged  by  it.  In  cases 
where  Sir  Roger  lias  recommended,  I  have  lent  money  to 

'■Spectator  No.  410. 

*  Establishments. 

•  See  above,  note  2. 


166  SIR  ROGER  1)E   COVERLEY 

put  out  children,  with  a  clause  which  makes  void  the  ob- 
ligation in  case  the  infant  ^  dies  before  he  is  out  of  his 
apprenticeship;  by  which  means  the  kindred  and  masters 
are  extremely  careful  of  breeding  him  to  industry,  that  he 
may  repay  it  himself  by  his  labor,  in  three  years'  journey- 
work  after  his  time  is  out,  for  the  use  of  his  securities. 
Opportunities  of  this  kind  are  all  that  have  occurred 
since  I  came  to  my  estate;  but  I  assure  you  I  will  pre- 
serve a  constant  disposition  to  catch  at  all  the  occasions 
I  can  to  promote  the  good  and  happiness  of  my  neigh- 
borhood. 

But  give  me  leave  to  lay  before  you  a  little  establishment 
which  has  grown  out  of  my  past  life,  that  I  doubt  not  will 
administer  great  satisfaction  to  me  in  that  part  of  it,  what- 
ever that  is,  which  is  to  come. 

There  is  a  prejudice  in  favor  of  the  way  of  life  to  which 
a  man  has  been  educated,  which  I  know  not  whether  it 
would  not  be  faulty  to  overcome.  It  is  like  a  partiality  to 
the  interest  of  one's  own  country  before  that  of  any  other 
nation.  It  is  from  an  habit  of  thinking,  grown  upon  me 
from  my  youth  spent  in  arms,  that  I  have  ever  held  gen- 
tlemen who  have  preserved  modesty,  good-nature,  jus- 
tice and  humanity  in  a  soldier's  life,  to  be  the  most  valu- 
able and  worthy  persons  of  the  human  race.  To  pass 
through  imminent  dangers,  suffer  painful  watchings,  fright- 
ful alarms,  and  laborious  marches  for  the  greater  part  of  a 
man's  time,  and  pass  the  rest  in  a  sobriety  conformable  to 
the  rules  of  the  most  virtuous  civil  life,  is  a  merit  too  great 
to  deserve  the  treatment  it  usually  meets  Avitli  among  the 
other  part  of  the  world.  But  I  assure  you,  sir,  were  there 
not  very  many  who  have  this  worth,  Ave  could  never  have 
seen  the  glorious  eveats  ^  which  we  have  in  our  days.  I 
need  not  say  more  to  illustrate  the  character  of  a  soldier 
than  to  tell  you  he  is  the  very  contrary  to  him  you  observe 
loud,  saucy,  and  overbearing,  in  a  red  coat  about  town. 
But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  that,  in  honor  of  the  profes- 
sion of  arms,  I  have  set  apart  a  certain  sum  of  money  for 
a  table  for  such  gentlemen  as  have  served  their  country  in 
the  army,  and  will  please  from  time  to  time  to  sojourn  all, 
or  any  part  of  the  year,  at  Coverley.     Such  of  them  as 

'  A  child  who  is  under  age. 

'Mention  some  within,  twentyyears  previous  to  that  date. 


SIR  ROGER'S  CHARACTER,   ESTATE,   ETC.     1G7 

will  do  me  that  honor  shall  find  horses,  servants,  and  all 
things  necessary  for  their  accommodation  and  enjoyment 
of  all  the  conveniences  of  life  in  a  pleasant,  various  coun- 
try. If  Colonel  Cam})erfelt  ^  be  in  town,  and  his  abilities 
are  not  employed  anotlier  way  iii  the  service,  there  is  no  man 
would  be  more  welcome  here.  That  gentleman's  thorough 
knowledge  in  his  profession,  together  with  the  simplicity 
of  his  manners  and  goodness  of  his  heart,  would  induce 
others  like  him  to  honor  my  abode;  and  I  should  be  glad 
my  acquaintance  would  take  themselves  to  be  invited  or 
not,  as  their  characters  have  an  affinity  to  his. 

I  would  have  all  my  friends  know  that  tliey  need  not 
fear  (though  I  am  become  a  country  gentleman)  I  will 
trespass  against  their  temperance  and  sobriety.  Xo,  sir,  I 
shall  retain  so  much  of  the  good  sentiments  for  the  con- 
duct of  life  which  we  cultivated  in  each  other  at  our  club, 
as  to  contemn  all  inordinate  pleasures;  but  particularly 
remember,  with  our  beloved  TuUy,'^  that  the  delight  in 
food  consists  in  desire,  not  satiety.  They  who  most  pas- 
sionately pursue  pleasure,  seldomest  arrive  at  it.  Xow  I 
am  Avriting  to  a  philosopher,  I  cannot  forbear  mentioning 
the  satisfaction  I  took  in  the  passage  I  read  yesterday  in 
the  same  Tully.  A  nobleman  of  Athens  made  a  compli- 
ment to  Plato  the  morning  after  he  had  supped  at  his 
house.  "  Your  entertainments  do  not  only  please  when 
you  give  them,  but  also  the  day  after." 
I  am,  my  worthy  friend. 

Your  most  obedient,  humble  servant, 

T.  William  Sentry. 

*J.  e.,   Kempenfeldt.     He   was  the  soldier  after   whom    Captain 
Sentry  is,  by  some,  supposed  to  have  been  patterned.    See  note  1,  p.  14. 
*  Cicero. 

Note. — While  the  foregoing  selections  embrace  several  essays  that 
are  not  commonly  found  included  among  the  so-called  "  de  Coverley 
papers,"  there  are  still  many  Spectators  in  which  cursory  reference 
to  Sir  Roger  is  made,  and  in  some  cases  more  extended  mention. 
Such  are  Nos.  100,  127,  137,  141,  221,  251,  271,  295,  331,  338,  410, 
424,  435,  and  518.  As  most  of  these  papers  deal  mainly  with  mat- 
ters foreign  to  our  subject,  for  the  salve  of  unity  they  have  been 
omitted  ;  but  they  will  be  found  of  interest  to  the  careful  student. 

Between  Spectators  517-544  (chaps,  xxxiii.  and  xxxiv.  of  this  vol- 
ume) the  Club  gradually  melts  away.  leaving  only  Sir  Andrew, 
the  "  worthy  clergyman,  who  is  dying,''  and  the   Spectator.      In 


168  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY 

517  Sir  Roger  dies  ;  in  530  Will  Honeycomb  marries  ;  in  541  the 
Templar  abandons  poetry,  turns  to  the  law,  and  gives  up  his  com- 
panions ;  in  544  we  see  Captain  Sentry  in  possession  of  Sir  Roger's 
estate.  Later  (in  549)  we  learn  that  the  clergyman  has  peacefully 
passed  away,  and  Sir  Andrew  retires  from  business  and  from  club 
life,  leaving  the  Spectator  alone.  Finally  (in  555)  he  too  makes 
his  bow,  and  for  a  year  and  a  half  the  curtain  falls. 


APPENDIX 


THE    MOTTOES    TRANSLATED 

The  Spectator  says  (in  No.  370)  :  ".Many  of  my  fair  readers, 
as  well  as  very  gay  and  well  received  jjersons  of  the  otiier  sex, 
are  extremely  perplexed  at  the  Latin  sentences  at  the  head  of  my 
speculations  ;  I  do  not  know  whether  I  ought  not  to  indulge 
them  with  translations  of  each  of  tlieni." 

In  another  essay  (No.  221)  he  says:  "I  must  confess,  the 
motto  is  of  little  use  to  an  unlearned  reader,  for  which  reason  I 
consider  it  only  as  a  word  to  the  wise.  But  as  for  my  unlearnetl 
friends,  if  they  cannot  relish  the  motto,  I  take  care  to  make  pro- 
vision for  them  in  the  body  of  my  paper.  If  they  do  not  under- 
stand the  sign  that  is  hung  out,  tliey  know  very  well  by  it  that 
they  may  meet  with  entertainment  in  the  liouse  ;  and  I  think  I 
was  never  better  pleased  than  with  a  plain  man's  compliment, 
who,  upon  his  friend's  telling  him  that  he  would  like  the  Sjtecta- 
tor  much  better  if  he  understood  tlie  motto,  replied  that  good 
tcine  needs  no  hush. ''  ' 

While  the  most  of  those  who  use  this  little  volume  are  doubt- 
less learned  readers,  and  capable  of  "understanding  tlie  sign, " 
it  has  still  been  thought  best  to  provide  original  translations 
(combined  with  a  few  selected  ones  from  the  poets),  but  to  j)lace 
these  at  tlie  close  of  tiie  book,  so  as  not  to  interfere  Avith  the  en- 
joyment of  any  who  prefer  to  exercise  their  own  wits  upon  the 
classic  tongue.  As  those  who  consult  this  Appendix  are  presum- 
ably ignorant  of  Latin,  whenever  the  translation  departs  widely 
from  the  Latin  idiom  a  literal  version  is  given  in  jjarentheses. 

>  See  the  Epilogue  to  As  You  Like  It,  "  Bush,  4,""  in  Webster's  Iniernatioiml,  and 
Tatler  No.  %.  A  bush  was  anciently  the  sign  of  a  tavern.  It  was  succeecletl  by  a 
thing  intended  to  resemble  a  bush,  consisting  of  three  or  four  tiers  of  hoops  fastened 
one  above  another,  with  vine  leaves  and  grapes  richly  carved  and  gilt,  anci  a  Bacchus 
bestriding  a  tun  at  the  top.  The  owner  of  a  tavern  in  Aldersgate  Street  was  so 
aflfected  at  the  execution  of  Charles  I.  that  he  painted  his  "  bush  "  black.  The 
house  was  long  after  known  as  "  The  Mourning  Bush  of  Aldersgate."— Hawkins's 
Hiet.  of  Music. 


170  APPENDIX 

I.  He  does  not  purpose  from  a  flash  to  produce  smoke,  but 
from  smoke  to  derive  light  ;  so  that,  in  succession,  he  may  bring 
forth  wondrous  beauties. — "Art  of  Poetry"  ("  Ars  Poetica,"  or 
"Epistola  ad  Pisones  "),  v.  143. 

"  He  does  not  lavish  at  a  blaze  his  fire, 
Sudden  to  glare,  and  in  a  smoke  expire  ; 
But  rises  from  a  cloud  of  smoke  to  light, 
And  pours  his  specious  miracles  to  sight." 

I'ranslation  hy  Philip  Francis^  D.D. 

II.  But  six  otiiers  and  more  cry  out  together  with  one  voice. — 
"Seventh  Satire,"  v.  166. 

(The  best  Latin  texts  have  haec  [tliese  things]  in  place  of  ast 
[l)ut],  and  tel  [even]  in  place  oi  et  [and].) 

III.  They  believed  it  a  gross  wickedness  and  one  to  be  atoned 
for  with  deatli,  if  a  youtli  had  not  risen  up  in  presence  of  an  old 
man. — "Thirteentli  Satire,"  v.  54. 

"  'Twas  a  crime 
Worthy  of  death,  such  awe  did  years  engage. 
If  manhood  rose  not  up  to  reverend  age." 

Translation  hy  William  Qiffwd. 

(Compare  with  "  Leviticus,"  xix.  33.) 

IV.  The  wild  beast  is  merciful  to  those  of  his  own  kind. 
(Literally, — A  similar  wild  beast  spares  cognate  spots.) — "Fifteenth 
Satire,"  v.  159. 

"  From  spotted  skins  the  leopard  does  refrain." 

Traiislation  hy  NaTium  Tate. 

V.  She  had  not  accustomed  her  woman's  hands  to  the  distaff 
or  work-baskets  of  Minerva. — "  J^neid,"  vii.  805. 

"  Unbred  to  spinning,  in  the  loom  unskilled." 

Translation  hy  John  Dryden. 
t 

VI.  Here  abounding  Plenty  shall  flow,  and  for  thee  shall  she 
))our  forth  the  wealth  of  rural  honors  from  her  generous  horn. 
(.Literally, — Hence  for  thee  plenty  shall  fo'c  to  (he  full,  from  henig 


APPENDIX  171 

nant  horn  [pour  forth]  the  riches  of  the  honors  of  the  country.) — 
"Odes,"  book  I.  xvii.  14. 

"  And  all  our  rural  honors  here 
Their  flowery  wealth  around  tliee  shall  diffuse." 

Translation  hy  Philip  Francis,  D.D. 

Vn.  The  Athenians  erected  a  colossal  statue  of  ^sop,  and, 
although  he  was  a  slave,  placed  it  on  an  enduring  pedestal,  that 
men  might  take  knowledge  that  tlie  Way  to  Honor  lies  open  to 
all.  (Literally, — For  ^soj>,  the  Athenians  placed  a  mighty  statue, 
and  established  the  slave  on  an  eternal  foundation,  that  all  might 
hnow  the  way  of  honor  to  lie  open.) — "Epilogue  to  Phsedrus's 
Fables." 

Vin.  Uselessly  out  of  breath  ;  achieving  nothing,  though 
attempting  much.  (Literally, — Panting  tcithout  recompense,  in 
doing  many  things  doing  nothing.) — "  Fables,"  v.  2. 

IX.  Unconventionally  wise.  (Literally,  —  Wise  [hut]  7iot  accord- 
ing to  rule.) — "  Satires,"  book  ii.  2,  1.  3. 

X.  On  all  sides  an  awful  dread  causes  our  liearts  to  quail, 
while  the  very  silence  is  terrifying.  (Literal/y, — Everywhere 
horror  [seizes  our]  spirits,  at  the  same  time  the  silences  themselves 
terrify  [them].)  (The  best  text  has  animo  in  place  of  animos 
[literally,  horror  is  to  the  spirit],  but  the  idea  is  the  same.) — 
"  JEneid,"  ii.  755. 

XI.  First,  reverence  the  deathless  gods  as  it  is  fixed  by  law. — 
"Fragments."  ' 

XII.  [Her]  features  abide  deeply  fixed  in  [his]  breast. — 
"^neid,"  iv.  4. 

(In  the  original  this  means  that  ?iis  [^neas's]  features  remain 
in  her  [Dido's]  heart  ;  but  in  this  paper  the  rule  must  be  worked 
the  other  way.) 

XIII.  The  shame  and  dread  of  (\\ter aWy,— flight  [from])  Pov- 
erty.— "Epistles,"  book  I.  xviii.  24, 

XIV.  That  there  may  be  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound  body. — 
"Tenth  Satire,"  v.  356. 

>  Only  fragments  of  "  Pythagoras  "  have  been  preserved,  and  these  were  written  by 
eome  one  else. 


172  APPENDIX 

XV.  Cithaerou '  calls  with  a  great  cry,  and  the  dogs  of 
Taygetus.' — "Georgics,"  iii.  43. 

"  Cithaeron  loudly  calls  me  to  my  way  ; 
Thy  hounds,  Taygetus,  open,  and  pursue  their  prey." 

Translation  hy  John  Dryden. 

XVI.  They  themselves  invent  dreams  for  themselves. — "Ec- 
logues," viii.  108. 

XVn.  The  deadly  shaft  is  fixed  in  his  side. — "jEneid,"  iv. 
73. 

"The  fatal  dart 
Sticks  in  his  side,  and  rankles  in  his  heart." 

Translation  by  John  Dryden. 

XVIII.  The  city  which  they  call  Rome,  O  Meliboeus,  I,  foolish 
one,  thought  [was]  like  this  [village]  of  ours. — "Eclogues," 
i.  20. 

"  Fool  that  I  was,  I  thought  imperial  Rome 
Like  Mantua,  where  on  market  days  we  come." 

Translation  by  John  Dryden. 

XIX.  First  Motto  :  In  sooth,  I  believe  [that  they  act  thus] 
because  a  talent  has  been  bestowed  upon  them  by  the  gods. 

(Literally, — Indeed  I  believe^ because  [there]  may  be  from 

heaven  to  them  a  natural  capacity.) — "Georgics,"  i.  415. 

Second  Motto  :  All  things  are  full  of  God  [Jove]. — "Eclogues," 
iii.  60. 

XX.  A  pleasant  companion  on  the  way  is  equal  to  (literally, — 
u  in  the  place  of)&  carriage. — "Fragments."  * 

>  A  mountain  in  Bceotia. 

'  A  mountain  in  Laconia  famed  for  hunting. 

»  Virgil  said  quite  another  thing  :  viz.,  Haud  equidem  credo — "  In  truth  I  do  not 
believe  [that  when  ravens,  etc.,  display  intelligence  it  is]  because  they  have  a  spirit 
of  discernment  from  the  gods,  or  superior  Icnowledge  of  things  by  fate."  Dryden 
translates  it  thus : 

"  Not  that  I  think  their  breasts  with  heavenly  souls 
Inspired,  as  man,  who  destiny  controls." 

But  Addison  garbled  the  text,  and  made  it  a  suitable  motto  for  his  own  belief. 

«  Publius  Syrus  was  a  Roman  slave  from  Syria  who  lived  in  the  time  of  Virgil. 
He  was  freed  because  of  his  literary  talents.  Eight  or  nine  hundred  of  \\\&  maxims 
are  now  extant. 


APPENDIX  173 

XXI.  Wise  instruction  promotes  inborn  energy 
And  proper  culture  strengthens  the  soul  ; 
But  whenever  morality  gives  way 
Vices  disfigure  talents  of  noble  birth. 

(Literally,  —  But  learning  moves  forward  force  situated  within,  and 
right  cultivations  make  hreasts  like  oak :  at  whatever  time  morals 
have  fallen  away,  faults  disgrace  [un-decorate]  well-born  [things 
— i.  e.,  talents  (ingenia)].) — "Odes,"  book  IV.  iv.  33. 

"  But  education  can  the  genius  raise 

And  wise  instructions  native  virtue  aid  ; 
Nobility  without  them  is  disgrace. 

And  honor  is  by  vice  to  shame  betrayed." 

Translation  by  Lord  LyttUton. 

XXII.  Do  not,  my  sons,  familiarize  your  minds  with  such  great 

wars  ; 
And  do  not  turn  your  sturdy  strength  against  the  vitals 
of  your  country. — "^ueid,"  vi.  833. 

"  Embrace  again,  my  sons  !  be  foes  no  more  ; 
Nor  stain  your  country  with  her  children's  gore  !  " 

Translation  by  John  Dryden, 

XXm,  Whether  he  be  Trojan  or  Rutulian,  I  will  show  no  dis- 
tinction. (Literally, — Trojan  or  Rutulian  he  may  be,  in  no  dis- 
crimination will  1  hold  [him].) — "  ^neid,"  x.  108. 

XXIV.  And  ever  they  delight  to  heap  up  fresh  booty  and  to 
live  upon  plunder.  (Literally, — And  it  is  always  pleasing  [to 
them]  to  carry  together  recent  spoils  and  to  live  by  means  of  [a  thing] 
stolen.— ''  Mneid,''  vii.  748. 

XXV.  Ye  forests,  again  farewell.  (Literally, —  Turned  bacJc,  0 
woods  yourselves,  withdraw).  —  "  Eclogues, "  x.  63. 

XXVI.  That  man  who  does  not  see  what  the  occasion  demands, 
and  either  talks  too  much,  or  makes  a  display  of  himself,  or  has 
no  consideration  for  those  who  are  present,  is  an  impertinent 
fellow.  (Literally, — [He]  who  either  does  not  see  what  the  time 
demands,  or  speaks  more  [things],  or  shores  himself  off,  oi'  has  not 
regard  of  those  with  whom  he  is,  is  said  to  be  '■^  inept.'''') 


174  APPENDIX 

XXVII.  These  things  I  remember,  and  that  the  conquered 
Thyrsis  contended  in  vain. — "Eclogues,"  vii.  69. 

XXVIII.  Simplicity,  [a  thing]  most  rare  in  our  age.  — "  Art  of 
Love,"  book  I.  v,  241. 

XXIX.  Still  thou  must  go  down  to  the  grave,  whither  Numa 
and  Ancus  have  gone.  (Literally, — Nevertheless  it  remains  to  go 
whither  Numa  has  departed,  and  Ancus.) — "Epistles,"  book  I, 
vi.  27. 

XXX.  I  shall  direct  the  skilful  actor  to  copy  his  manner  from 
life,  and  then  he  will  make  liis  utterances  true  to  nature. 
(Literally, — /  will  order  the  learned  imitator  to  looh  bach  upon  an 
example  of  life  and  manners,  and  hence  to  lead  true  voices.) — "Art 
of  Poetry  "  ("Ars  Poetica,"  or  "Epistola  ad  Pisones"),  v.  327. 

XXXI.  The  savage  lioness  pursues  the  wolf,  the  wolf  himself 
[hunts]  the  she-goat  ;  the  wanton  she-goat  seeks  for  clover  blos- 
soms (the  flowering  cytisus). — "  Eclogues,"  ii.  63. 

"  The  greedy  lioness  the  wolf  pursues, 
The  wolf  the  kid,  the  wanton  kid  the  browse." 

Translation  hy  John  Dry  den. 

XXXII.  They  owe  their  pleasure-gardens  to  vice. —  "  First 
Satire,"  v.  75. 

XXXIIL  Alas,  for  that  old-time  piety  and  faith  !—"  ^neid," 
vi.  878. 

XXXIV.  No  one  ever  has  a  plan  of  life  so  well  drawn  up  but 
that  circumstances,  age,  or  experience  may  contribute  some  new 
and  valuable  suggestion  ;  so  that  one  is  often  unskilled  in  what 
he  thinks  he  knows,  and  that  which  he  at  first  thought  of  great 
importance  to  himself  he  may  fling  aside  on  trial.  (Literally, — 
Never  was  any  one  with  a  plan  for  life  so  well  arranged  hut  that  a 
thing,  age,  [or]  use  may  always  bring  something  of  new,  may  advise 
something :  so  that  thou  mayest  not  knoic  what  thou  thinkest  thyself 
to  Icnow ;  and  so  that  thou  mayest  reject,  in  e3>perimenting,  ichat 
[things]  thou  mayest  have  thought  first  for  thyself. ) — "  The  Broth- 
ers," Act  V.  Sc.  4. 


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-^COMMENTS   ON  THE    SERIES 

"  These  three  books,  then  (referring  to  the  three  Shakspere  Comedies 
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imagination,  a  vitalization  of  thought,  which  comes  to  pass  in  studying 
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series  as  a  whole.  An  examination  of  the  .  .  .  volumes  already  pub- 
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work  of  the  general  editor  is  one  of  the  strong  points  of  the  series, 
nowhere  showing  to  better  advantage  than  in  his  selection  of  responsible 
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— Edith  L.  Swain,  Laconia  High  School,  Lakeport,  N.  H. 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  writing  testimonials,  but  a  regard  for  the 
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of  English  Classics.  Nothing  has  been  left  undone.  The  editor, 
the  annotator,  the  printer,  the  binder,  has  each  in  turn  shown  himself 
master  of  his  work.  The  books  need  only  to  be  known  to  be  used,  and 
they  must  soon  find  a  way  into  every  secondary  school  whose  instructors 
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"  The  series  is  a  credit  to  American  scholarship." 
— Martin  W.  Sampson,  Professor  of  English,  University  of  Indiana. 

"  As  a  series  the  books  have  two  strong  points  :  there  is  a  unity  of 
method  in  editing  that  I  have  seen  in  no  other  series  ;  the  books  are  freer 
from  objections  in  regard  to  the  amount  and  kind  of  editing  than  any 
other  series  I  know." 

— Byron  Groce,  Master  in  English,  Boston  Latin  School. 

"With  their  clear  type,  good  paper,  sober  and  attractive  binding — 
good  enough  for  any  library  shelves — with  their  introductions,  sug- 
gestions to  teachers,  and  notes,  I  do  not  see  how  much  more  could  be 
desired." — Prof,  D.  L.  Maulsby,  Tufts  College. 

"  Admirably  adapted  to  accomplish  what  you  intend — to  interest 
young  persons  in  thoughtful  reading  of  noble  literature.  The  help 
given  seems  just  what  is  needed  ;  its  generosity  is  not  of  the  sort  to 
make  the  young  student  unable  to  help  himself.  I  am  greatly  pleased 
with  the  plan  and  with  its  e.xecution." — Prof.  C.  B.  Bradley,  Univer- 
sity of  California  ;  Member  of  English  Conference  of  the  National 
Committee  of  Ten. 

"The  series  is  admirably  planned,  the  'Suggestions  to  Teachers' 
being  a  peculiarly  valuable  feature. 

— Prof.  Katherine  Lee  Bates,  Wellesley  College. 

"  The  introductions,  the  suggestions  to  teachers,  the  chronological 
tables,  and  the  notes  are  most  admirable  in  design  and  execution.  The 
editor-in-chief  and  his  associates  have  rendered  a  distinct  service  to 
secondary  schools." — Charles  C.  Ramsay,  Principal  of  Durfee  High 

School,  Fall  River,  Mass. 

"  It  is  the  most  attractive,  most  consistent,  most  oracticable,  and 
at  the  same  time  most  scholarly  series  for  college  preparation,  yet 
produced." — Principal  George  H.  Browne,  Cambridge  Mass. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


Cooper's  '  Last  of  the  Mohicans.' 

"We  have  adopted  the  '  Last  of  the  Mohicans'  in  one  of  our 
classes  and  find  it  an  admirable  edition  in  every  particular." 

— T.  E.  Lyon.  The  Barnard  School,  N.  Y. 

"  It  is  of  the  same  high  grade  as  the  others  of  your  '  English  Classic 
Series'  which  we  have  introduced.    We  shall  continue  to  use  your  books 
next  year,  in  those  classes  preparing  for  the  '98  and  '99  examinations." 
— D.wiD  Allen  Center,  Woodbridge  School,  N.  Y,  City. 

Tennyson's  ■  Princess.' 

"  I  am  delighted  with  the  '  Introduction  '  and  '  Suggestions.'  It  is 
so  comfortable  to  find  an  editor  who  does  not  ask  us  to  spoil  the  delicate 
beauty  of  the  poem  by  extreme  analysis." 

— Miss  Eliza  F.  Hammond,  Leicester  Academy,  Leicester,  Mass. 

"  The  work  maintains  the  high  standard  already  attained  throughout 

the  entire  series  of  '  English  Classics.'     These  volumes  have  been  used 

in  Harvard  School  with  excellent  results,  and  I  can  assure  the  publishers 

that  the  English  masters  of  the  school  heartily  recommend  the  edition." 

— Frank  Poole  Johnson,  Harvard  School,  N.  Y. 

'  Macbeth.' 

"The  editing  of  Macbeth  is  what  one  would  expect  from  Prof. 
Manly,  scholarly  and  literary.  .  .  .  Perhaps  the  most  pleasing  section 
of  that  portion  of  the  book  is  concerned  with  '  sign-board  criticism.'  I 
think  you  are  to  be  thanked  as  well  as  congratulated  for  the  excellence 
of  the  series  to  which  these  books  belong." 

— Prof.  Elmer  Wentworth,  Vassar  College,  Poughkeepsie.  N.  Y. 

"  Any  pupil  must  become  interested  in  the  great  dramatist  who  has 
such  a  pleasing  text  as  is  presented  in  your  publication." 

— Miss  M.  F.  Rice,  Robinson  Seminary,  Exeter,  N.  H. 

"  With  accurate  scholarship  Dr.  Manly  seems  to  me  to  combine 
extraordinary  good  sense  in  his  treatment  of  Shakspere.  I  will  intro- 
duce the  volume  to  my  colleagues  and  friends,  as  it  seems  to  me  the  best 
guide  to  '  Macbeth.'  " 

— Prof.  W.  H.  Carruth,  University  of  Kansas,  Lawrence.  Kan. 

*'  I  think  it  is  the  best  edition  I  have  ever  seen — certainly  the  best 
text-book.  The  '  Suggestions  to  Teachers'  are  admirable,  and  the  notes 
are  so  full  and  clear  as  to  enable  the  student  to  understand  the  subject 
thoroughly;  and  hence  they  excite  interest  and  encourage  him  to  the  study 
of  classic  literature." 

— J.  T.  Murfee,  Marion  Military  Inst.,  Marion.  Ala. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


Scott's  'Marmion.' 

"  I  decided  upon  your  Scott's  '  Marmion  '  and  Burke's  '  Speech  '  for 
class  use,  as  they  are  unquestionably  the  best  editions  of  the  series  that 
I  have  seen." — Ezra  Lehman,  Cumberland  Valley  Normal  School,  Ship- 

pensburg,  Pa. 

"  The  notes  .  .  .  sensible  and  pertinent,  not  leading  the  young 
student  into  labyrinths  of  learned  analysis,  comparisons  and  quotations, 
but  proving,  as  notes  should  be,  a  real  aid,  and  not,  as  is  too  often  the 
case  with  annotations  of  to-day,  a  cause  for  further  perplexity." 

— J.  A.  Shaw,  The  Highland  Military  Academy,  Worcester,  Mass. 

'Burke's  Speech.' 

"The  editorial  work  is  worthy  of  the  masterpiece  of  one  of  the 
greatest  orators  of  all  time.  The  introduction  prepares  the  way  by  a 
most  lucid  statement  of  the  history  necessary  to  comprehend  the  points 
covered  in  this  great  oration.  The  clearness,  the  accuracy  and  fulness 
of  the  introductory  investigations  are  followed  by  the  oration  itself, 
arranged  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  mastery  of  its  arguments  easy, 
and  their  retention  in  the  memory  permanent.  The  notes,  both  explan- 
atory of  the  allusions  in  the  speech,  and  illustrative  of  its  wonderful 
oratorical  richness,  give  a  unique  value  to  this  edition,  and  must  greatly 
enhance  the  editor's  reputation  in  a  comparatively  new  field." 
— Jacob  Cooper,  D.D.,  D.C.L.,  LL.D.,  Professor  in  Rutgers  College. 

"  We  are  now  using  your  Burke's  '  Conciliation  with  America  '  with 
very  great  satisfaction." 

— Byron  Groce,  Public  Latin  School,  Boston,  Mass. 

Carlyle's  'Burns.' 

"  Permit  me  to  express  the  pleasure  I  have  found  in  reading  your 
Farrand's  edition  of  Carlyle's  '  Burns.'  It  is  a  remarkable  example  of 
editing,  exactly  adapted  to  its  purpose." 

—Robert  H.  Nichols,  Ph.D.,  The  Hill  School,  Pottstown,  Pa. 

"  Enough  is  given  to  make  the  study  of  Burns  a  delight  to  the  right- 
minded  pupil,  and  to  open  the  door  for  the  teacher  into  a  new   and 
broader  appreciation  of  the  two  great  Scotchmen." 
— Albert  Edward  Bailey,  A. B., Worcester  Academy, Worcester, Mass. 

"  It  seems  to  me  the  edition  of  Carlyle's  '  Burns,'  edited  by  Mr. 
Farrand,  is  the  best  for  school  use.  I  am  particularly  pleased  with  the 
specimen  topics  for  written  exercises  and  examination  papers." 

— Helen  Marshall,  Norwich  Female  Academy,  Norwich,  Conn. 

"  It  pleases  me  decidedly  better  than  any  other  edition  that  I  have 
seen.  The  introduction  is  suggestive  and  the  '  Notes '  are  what  they 
profess  to  be — '  explanatory.'  " — Caroline  Carpenter,  Lasell  Seminary 

for  Young  Ladies,  Auburndale,  Mass. 


LONGMANS'    ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


Irving's  '  Tales  of  a  Traveller.' 

"  I  feel  bound  to  say  that,  if  the  series  of  English  Classics  is 
carried  out  after  the  plan  of  this  initial  volume,  it  will  contribute  much 
toward  making  the  study  of  literature  a  pure  delight." 

— Prof.  A.  G.  Newcomer,  Leland  Stanford  Jr.  University. 

"  I  have  looked  through  the  first  volume  of  your  English  Classics, 
Irving's  '  Tales  of  a  Traveller,'  and  do  not  see  how  literature  could  be 
made  more  attractive  to  the  secondary  schools." — Prof.  Edward  A. 
Allen,  University  of  Missouri  ;  Member  of  the  English  Conference  of 
the  National  Committee  of  Ten. 

"  I  have  received  your  Irving's  '  Tales  of  a  Traveller'  and  examined 
it  with  much  pleasure.  The  helpful  suggestions  to  teachers,  the 
judicious  notes,  the  careful  editing,  and  the  substantial  binding  make  it 
the  most  desirable  volume  for  class  use  on  the  subject,  that  has  come  to 
my  notice." — Edwin  Cornell,  Principal  of  Central  Valley  Union 
School.  N.  Y. 

George  Eliot's  '  Silas  Marner.' 

"This  book  is  really  attractive  and  inviting.  The  introduction, 
particularly  the  suggestions  to  pupils  and  teachers,  is  a  piece  of  real 
helpfulness  and  wisdom." 

— D.  E.  Bowman,  Principal  of  High  School,  Waterville,  Me. 

"The  edition  of  'Silas  Marner'  recently  sent  out  by  you  leaves 
nothing  undone.  I  find  the  book  handsome,  the  notes  sensible  and 
clear.  I'm  glad  to  see  a  book  so  well  adapted  to  High  School  needs, 
and  I  shall  recommend  it,  without  reserve,  as  a  safe  and  clean  book  to 
put  before  our  pupils." 

— James  W.  McLane,  Central  High  School,  Cleveland,  O. 

Scott's  ■  Woodstock.' 

"  Scott's  '  Woodstock,'  edited  by  Professor  Bliss  Perry,  deepens  the 
impression  made  by  the  earlier  numbers  that  this  series,  Longmans' 
English  Classics,  is  one  of  unusual  excellence  in  the  editing,  and  will 
prove  a  valuable  auxiliary  in  the  reform  of  English  teaching  now 
generally  in  progress.  .  .  .  We  have,  in  addition  to  the  unabridged 
text  of  the  novel,  a  careful  editorial  introduction  ;  the  author's  intro- 
duction, preface  and  notes  ;  a  reprint  of  '  The  Just  Devil  of  Woodstock'; 
and  such  foot-notes  as  the  student  will  need  as  he  turns  from  page  to 
page.  Besides  all  this  apparatus,  many  of  the  chapters  have  appended 
a  few  suggestive  hints  for  character-study,  collateral  reading  and  dis- 
cussions of  the  art  of  fiction.  All  this  matter  is  so  skillfully  distributed 
that  it  does  not  weigh  upon  the  conscience,  and  is  not  likely  to  make  the 


LONGMANS'   ENGLISH   CLASSICS  13 

student  forget  that  he  is,  after  all,  reading  a  novel  chiefly  for  the 
pleasure  it  affords.  The  entire  aim  of  this  volume  and  its  companions 
is  literary  rather  than  historical  or  linguistic,  and  in  this  fact  their  chief 
value  is  to  be  found."  — The  Dial. 

"I  heartily  approve  of  the  manner  in  which  the  editor's  work  has 
been  done.  This  book,  if  properly  used  by  the  teacher  and  supple- 
mented by  the  work  so  clearly  suggested  in  the  notes,  may  be  made  of 
great  value  to  students,  not  only  as  literature  but  as  affording  oppor- 
tunity for  historical  research  and  exercise  in  composition." 

— Lillian  G.   Kimball,  State  Normal  School,  Oshkosh,  Wis. 

Defoe's  'History  of  the  Plague  in  London." 

"  He  gives  an  interesting  biography  of  Defoe,  an  account  of  his 
works,  a  discussion  of  their  ethical  influence  (including  that  of  this 
"somewhat  sensational'  novel),  some  suggestions  to  teachers  and  students, 
and  a  list  of  references  for  future  study.  This  is  all  valuable  and  sugges- 
tive. The  reader  wishes  that  there  were  more  of  it.  Indeed,  the  criticism 
I  was  about  to  offer  on  this  series  is  perhaps  their  chief  excellence. 
One  wishes  that  the  introductions  were  longer  and  more  exhaustive. 
For,  contrary  to  custom,  as  expressed  in  Gratiano's  query,  '  Who  riseth 
from  a  feast  with  that  keen  appetite  that  he  sits  down  ? '  the  young 
student  will  doubtless  finish  these  introductions  hungering  for  more. 
And  this,  perhaps,  was  the  editor's  object  in  view,  viz.,  that  the  intro- 
ductory and  explanatory  matter  should  be  suggestive  and  stimulating 
rather  than  complete  and  exhaustive  !  " — Educational  Review. 

"  I  have  taken  great  pleasure  in  examining  your  edition  of  Defoe's 
'Plague  in  London.'  The  introduction  and  notes  are  beyond  reproach, 
and  the  binding  and  typography  are  ideal.  The  American  school-boy 
is  to  be  congratulated  that  he  at  length  may  study  his  English  from 
books  in  so  attractive  a  dress." — George  N.  McKnight,  Instructor  in 
English,  Cornell  University. 

"  I  am  gfreatly  obliged  to  you  for  the  copy  of  the  '  Journal  of  the 
Plague.'  I  am  particularly  pleased  with  Professor  Carpenter's  intro- 
duction and  his  handling  of  the  difficult  points  in  Defoe's  life." — Ham- 
mond Lamont,  A.B.,  Associate  Professor  of  Composition  and  Rhetoric 
in  Brown  University. 

Macaulay's  •  Essay  on  Milton.' 

"  I  have  examined  the  Milton  and  am  much  pleased  with  it ;  it  fully 
sustains  the  high  standard  of  the  other  works  of  this  series  ;  the  intro- 
duction, the  suggestions  to  teachers,  and  the  notes  are  admirable." 

— William  Nichols,  The  Nichols  School,  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 


14  LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 

"I  have  never  seen  notes  on  a  text  that  were  more  admirable  thaa 
these.  They  contain  just  the  information  proper  to  impart,  and  are 
unusually  well  expressed." 

— Charles  C.  Ramsay,  Principal  of  Fall  River  High  School. 

Coleridge's  '  Ancient  Mariner.' 

"It  is  the  best  edition  of  the  poem  that  I  know  of.  The  editor 
points  out  precisely  the  things  that  a  class  should  observe;  the  questions 
are  searching  and  suggestive;  the  notes  lucid  and  literary." — Professor 
Martin  W.  Sampson,  University  of  Indiana,  Bloomington,  Ind. 

"  If  your  series  of  English  Classics  is  to  be  judged  by  this  volume, 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  it  superior  to  any  other  with  which  I  am 
familiar.  Mr.  Bates'  edition  is  the  best  annotation  of  the  '  Ancient 
Mariner  '  I  have  yet  seen." 

— L.  L.  Rice,  Cumberland  University,  Lebanon,  Tenn. 

"  I  am  especially  pleased  with  the  brevity,  pointedness  and  suggest- 
iveness  of  the  notes." 

— William  J.  Harrington,  S.J.,  Detroit  College,  Detroit,  Mich. 

"  Does  more  than  any  school  edition  we  know,  to  help  the  young 
student  to  an  appreciation  of  the  poem." — Journal  of  Pedagogy, 

Milton's  '  L'Allegro,  II  Penseroso,'  etc. 

"  Professor  Trent's  sympathetic  treatment  on  the  literary  side  of 
the  subject  matter,  makes  the  introductions  and  notes  of  more  than  usual 
interest  and  profit;  and  I  think  that  it  is  just  such  editing  as  this  that 
our  younger  students  need  in  approaching  the  works  of  the  great  poets." 

— J,  Russell  Hayes,  Assistant  Professor  of  English,  Swarthmore 

College,  Pa. 

"  I  have  given  this  book  a  thorough  class-room  test  and  am  much 
pleased  with  it.  I  would  lay  stress  upon  the  fact  that  it  gives  the 
student  accurate  and  judicious  aid." 

— Principal  W.  D,  Mooney,  Franklin,  Tenn. 

Shakspere's  •  Merchant  of  Venice.' 

"  The  book  .  .  .  is  a  model  of  thorough  scholarship." — Principal 
Margaret  J.  Evans,  Carleton  College,  Northfield,  Minn. 

"  Its  superior  point  of  excellence  is,  that  it  insists,  in  all  proper 
places,  upon  finding  out  what  the  poet  meant  to  say  rather  than  what,  in 
a  hidden  way,  he  intended  to  darkly  hint.  I  know  of  no  other  edition 
that  brings  out  this  valuable  'point'  so  well." — Professor  Enoch 
Perrine,  A.m.,  Litt.  D.,  Bucknell  University,  Lewisburg,  Pa. 


LOA'GJ/A.VS'  EXGLISH  CLASSICS  15 

Shakspere's  '  As  You  Like  It.' 

"  Professor  Wendell's   Introduction  is  written   in  a  charming  and 

interesting  style  and    is  marked  by  discriminating   judgment  and  the 

presentation  of  just  the  facts  needed  for  an  intelligent  study  of  the  play. 

The  same  good  sense  also  marks  Professor  Phelps'  notes  and  comments." 

— C.  C.  Ramsay,  Prin.  Durfee  High  School,  P'all  River,  Mass. 

Webster's  'Bunker  Hill  Oration.' 

"  The  introduction  is  very  good,  and  the  criticism  of  Webster's  style 
is  excellent." — Boston  Pilot. 

"We  have  seen  no  better  school  edition  of  this  work,  which  is  now 
included  in  the  preparatory  reading  required  by  all  the  leading  colleges 
of  the  country." — T/w  Critic,  New  York. 

Macaulay's  'Life  of  Samuel  Johnson.' 

"A  remarkable  school  edition.  I  have  seen  nothing  more  satisfac- 
tory in  the  editing  of  any  classic." 

— John  C.  Grant,  The  Harvard  School,  Chicago. 

"  Of  all  the  numerous  editions  which  have  been  recently  published 
I  consider  yours  the  best  that  I  have  seen.  The  entire  make-up  is 
unusually  good,  while  the  price  is  noticeably  cheap." — Prof.  Elmer 
James  Bailey,  State  Normal  School,  New  Paltz,  N.  Y. 

Milton's  '  Paradise  Lost.' 

"  Allow  me  to  say  that  Mr.  Hale's  essay  is  a  creditable  addition  to 
the  immense  bulk  now  existing  of  writing  on  Miltonic  themes." 

— S-\MUEL  Thurber,  Master  in  Girls'  High  School,  Boston,  Mass. 

De  Quincev's  '  Revolt  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.' 

"  I  have  gone  over  the  Introduction  and  notes  with  great  care  and 
with  yet  greater  pleasure.  Dr.  Baldwin  shows  the  greatest  felicity  in 
the  selection  of  matter  and  the  deft  expression  of  salient  points  in 
De  Quincey's  strange  life  and  character." — M.  H.  Turk,  Professor  of 
English,  Hobart  College,  Geneva,  N.  Y. 


*'  The  Suggestions  for  Teachers  are  likely  to  be  of  great  value,  not 
only  because  many  teachers  need  assistance  in  such  work,  but  also 
because  they  must  tend  to  introduce  the  uniformity  of  method  that  is 
hardly  less  valuable  than  the  uniformity  of  the  courses  themselves." 

—  T/ie  Educational  Review,  February,  1896. 


1 6  LONGMANS'   ENGLISH   CLASSICS 

It  has  been  the  aim  of  the  publishers  to  secure  editors 
of  high  reputation  for  scholarship,  experience,  and  skill, 
and  to  provide  a  series  thoroughly  adapted,  by  uniformity 
of  plan  and  thoroughness  of  execution,  to  present  educa- 
tional needs.  The  chief  distinguishing  features  of  the 
series  are  the  following: 

1.  Each  volume  contains  full  "Suggestions  for  Teach- 
ers and  Students,"  with  bibliographies,  and,  in  many  cases, 
lists  of  topics  recommended  for  further  reading  or  study, 
subjects  for  themes  and  compositions,  specimen  examina- 
tion papers,  etc.  It  is  therefore  hoped  that  the  series  will 
contribute  largely  to  the  working  out  of  sound  methods 
in  teaching  English. 

2.  The  works  prescribed  for  reading  are  treated,  in 
every  case,  as  literature,  not  as  texts  for  narrow  linguistic 
study,  and  edited  with  a  view  to  interesting  the  student  in 
the  book  in  question  both  in  itself  and  as  representative  of 
a  literary  type  or  of  a  period  of  literature,  and  of  leading 
him  on  to  read  other  standard  works  of  the  same  age  or 
kind  understandingly  and  appreciatively. 

3.  These  editions  are  in  every  case  specially  prepared, 
and  they  represent  original  work  of  scholars  and  men  of 
letters  who  are  conversant  with  the  topics  of  which  they 
treat.  Great  care  has  been  taken  to  ensure  accuracy  in 
the  reproduction  of  the  most  authoritative  text  of  each 
author. 

4.  Colleges  and  preparatory  schools  are  both  repre- 
sented in  the  list  of  editors,  and  it  is  intended  that  the 
series  shall  exemplify  the  ripest  methods  of  American 
scholars  for  the  teaching  of  English — the  result  in  some 
cases  of  years  of  actual  experience  in  secondary  school 
work,  and,  in  others,  the  formulation  of  the  experience 
acquired  by  professors  who  observe  carefully  the  needs  of 
students  who  present  themselves  for  admission  to  college. 

5.  The  volumes  are  uniform  in  size  and  style,  are  well 
printed  and  bound,  and  constitute  a  well-edited  set  of 
standard  works,  fit  for  permanent  use  and  possession — a 
nucleus  for  a  library  of  English  literature. 


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